The Joy and the Laughter
by Ann Onamous
Summary: Bubbles' relationships with her sisters and the Rowdyruff Boys undergo changes as they all deal with the first blossoming of love, heartache, and being high school students. Chapter 12 FINALLY up - Apr 28th.
1. Reality is a Bitter Pill

A/N: Bubbles is usually portrayed as a simpleton, but as seen in some of the episodes, she is really more kind-hearted than stupid. Naïve to an extreme. She has her moments of brilliance (and I'm not counting the time she coincidentally scored the highest on HIM's little test by coloring in circles to form a flower).  
  
I thought that, with her open, honest, and truly caring personality, her adolescence could be a time of many changes.  
  
Sorry to add another PPG/RRB story to the mix, but I started this one during the summer of 2002 and then abandoned it. I thought I'd dust it off and let it fly, see if it grew wings. It's one of those stories that could stand alone, I think, but I'm tempted to continue it, as my original plans for the story go beyond what is contained in this chapter.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Powerpuff Girls, the Rowdyruff Boys, but I do claim responsibility for poor Bubbles' situation in this story.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
They were at it again.  
  
My sisters were quarreling. This is nothing new. They had been in competition since I can remember. I was rarely involved in these altercations. No one expected me to be, either. For the most part, it was because I was too kind-hearted to say anything that would hurt anyone's feelings. That in itself should have made me the mediator, trying to smooth things over between them, pointing out both sides and hoping for a smiling, happy resolution.  
  
Truthfully, I didn't feel smart enough to take on such a hefty role. That's not quite true. I'm smart enough, but I lack confidence where my sisters are concerned. Every time I thought of a reasonable solution, it was shot down before the words finished falling from my lips.  
  
My sisters don't think much of my intelligence. Blossom was the family genius. Everything comes easily to her. Buttercup was the tormented soul. I was merely fluff - the ditzy blonde - the naïve trusting fool.  
  
My solace came from my art. Creating beautiful works of art filled me with hope and pride. This irritated Buttercup to no end, of course, seeing canvases filled with rainbows breaking through treetops, fish jumping out of ponds, woodland animals frolicking in a field of impossible hues. If only she knew.  
  
Hidden in my footlocker, under books of "schmaltzy" poetry (Buttercup's description) and a few stuffed animals, was what I thought of as my Dark Portfolio. In it were sketches I'd created in those fleeting hours of my despair.  
  
Most people thought that Buttercup was the loner, and that Blossom and I had formed some kind of alliance. To outward appearances, that was probably true, because I agreed with just about everything Blossom said. At first, it was mainly because I just couldn't understand the terms she was using but figured she knew best, no matter how she phrased it. I know she is really intelligent and has a vast vocabulary, but sometimes I felt like she does it on purpose, to make herself feel superior.  
  
The funny thing is, Buttercup has always been closer to Blossom than I'll ever be. For starters, the two of them just thrived on conflict. They were both strong willed and determined to emerge from their verbal battles the victor. I, on the other hand, just wanted everyone to get along. That made me, in their eyes, a sap. I'm sure Buttercup has a few more colorful phrases to describe me, but I try not to think too much about that; it's just how she is.  
  
I know that's what they think of me, even if neither of them said as much to me. Buttercup would hurl insults in my direction when I wouldn't take her side, but I knew that she actually enjoyed the challenge of facing off against Blossom on her own. My agreement was unnecessary; if I were bold enough or uncaring enough to take a side, it would have been just another spoil of victory for whichever sister I might have agreed with.  
  
When the Rowdyruff Boys reappeared a few years back, it was almost immediate that the six of us faced off with determination. To my relief, they had lost their drive to destroy and were more in competition with us to see who did the town the greater good. I don't have to tell you that it often ended up in more damage to the town, despite my protests.  
  
Things were different between all of us in more ways than that. We were on the brink of becoming young men and women, and with that, all the urges that didn't exist when we were five were just making themselves known.  
  
I confess, I had a crush on Butch in the beginning. He reminded me so much of Buttercup. Let me say this - it's true; girls really do swoon over dark heroes. Hidden in my Dark Portfolio is a collection of sketches of Butch, my brooding warrior. I used to imagine being the sunshine in his life, turning the storm clouds over his head to rainbows. I pictured us starring in every sappy romance that ever graced the silver screen, up to and including his saving me from some danger that I know darn well I'm perfectly capable of handling on my own. Doesn't a real romance deserve a little two-way rescue, though? I wanted to save him from his internal demons, ones that he didn't even have. But it was a nice fantasy to dream about during my early teenage years.  
  
Only one problem. I was never very good at deception, and I wore my heart on my sleeve. All I gained from my infatuation was heartache. Butch had no tolerance for my feeble attempts to brighten his day. If I put a hand on his shoulder, he'd knock it off and tell me to stop bugging him. On one of his nice days. If he was in a particularly black mood, he'd tell me to give up, that he could never feel passion for such a milquetoast. At the time, I didn't know what it meant, but I knew from the way he said it, in that cold degrading way he has, that it wasn't a compliment. When I looked up the word later that day, I cried. I think that's what made me determined to expand my vocabulary, to compete with Blossom's ability to put things into words. I even went as far as buying a Word of the Day calendar. I keep that hidden away, too, leaving the one with the puppies and kittens on it proudly displayed on my desk, like the good little ray of sunshine and fluff that I am when I'm not crying over an injured squirrel. It's not always a wounded animal that brings tears to my eyes, but my sisters don't need to know that.  
  
I know Buttercup and Blossom were annoyed with my crying, but I couldn't help it. I feel things deeply. When I am happy, the world is full of joy and laughter with me, but when I am sad, I could cry oceans. I can't count the number of times when I drove my sisters out of the room with my sobs. Maybe that's why they don't think that I cry for anything meaningful. I do have a tendency to fall apart easily with the slightest nudge in that direction.  
  
I mentioned that Blossom and Buttercup are a lot closer than I am to either of them, and how most people assume that Blossom and I are united against Buttercup's rebellious nature. The funny thing is, I actually understand Buttercup better than I understand Blossom.  
  
Buttercup is like the other side of the same coin (like that analogy? I may not align myself with Blossom, but I sure do listen to her). Where I laugh, she sneers. Where I grieve, she rages. Where I cry, she'll throw a tantrum to rival a spoiled five-year-old, only frightening in its intensity. But she is really deep. I'm sure Blossom is, too, but she puzzles me more, because I always see her as a thinking person more than a feeling person. For all that Buttercup would like to pretend that she is the queen of quiet angst, she is an open book to me.  
  
That's not to say that she's faking it. She holds a wealth of emotions inside, and she really does have a lot of unresolved conflicts going on in her mind, not in the least of which is her relationship with Butch.  
  
Relationship.  
  
OK. I know that I said I had a crush on Butch "in the beginning." That's not to say that I ever got over it. It only made me work on the things that I knew he hated. Things about myself. Like the crying. Like being "vapid" and "vacuous" and a host of other words that he's spit at me when he's feeling particularly angry. I know his anger was never focused at me, not really, but I took everything he said to heart, and was determined to turn things around. Ridiculous, isn't it? To change for another person the very core of your personality?  
  
Bet you didn't think I could "wax philosophic" as Buttercup would say. Yes, that's right, Buttercup. Not Blossom. It's tough to be a brooding drama queen (or a goth, or whatever she thinks she is or wants to be this week) without the correct "turn of phrase." It's amazing the things I can pick up with the right motivation. Sadly, I can't TALK to anyone like this, because I feel on the spot and too much like I'm trying to be something I'm not. Maybe I am. It comes so naturally to Blossom - all the right words, that almost-sneer that she graces you with when she knows she's said something that puzzles you. Honestly? Brick is incredibly turned on by that little smirk of hers. I've known that all along. Well, I am the empathetic one. Which is better than being pathetic, I suppose. Maybe that's one of those superpowers that is just starting to emerge, now that I think of it. Empathy. I like that word. Of course, I don't think I need to rely on any special powers to see that Brick is completely ga-ga over Blossom. It's completely obvious. Unless you're the Professor, perhaps. Blossom has said with fondness that he's refusing to accept that we are on the "brink of a hormonal uprising." Then she winked at Brick and Boomer, who were sitting on the couch at the time, and they both licked their lips in response. If my emerging new "power" is empathy, maybe she's taking a page from Sedusa's book.  
  
But enough about Blossom and Brick for now. I was talking about Butch, my dark anti-hero, my heart, my weakness.  
  
I should have known from the very beginning that he wasn't for me, but does any woman ever choose a suitable mate using logic? Still, I should have known that Butch didn't want to be rescued. I don't know how everyone thinks that he and Buttercup hate each other. They exude raw animal magnetism if they are within fifty feet of each other. The sparks in their eyes, which everyone else sees as a fight waiting to happen, tell me that they are within an inch of ripping each other's clothes off. I may be innocent, but I understand sexual attraction. Probably more than any of them, even Blossom, Queen of Innuendo and Subtle Gestures.  
  
Of course, Butch likes to pretend he is panting after Blossom. He does it to tick Buttercup off, and it works. For someone so smart, she doesn't realize that this is part of his courtship. Someday something will ignite their powder keg, and they will come together in a binding flash of passion so great, the whole city of Townsville will need sunblock. It hurts to see him flirt with her that way, because I know that's what it is, and I am jealous.  
  
For whatever reason, everyone assumes that Boomer and I are "an item." Maybe it's to tie up loose ends, maybe to make a nice color scheme out of all the pairings that haven't happened yet, but nothing could be further from the truth. As I've hinted at, Brick and Blossom have a relationship similar to Butch's and Buttercup's, although with FAR less smoldering beneath the surface. They ignore the attraction they feel for each other, but it's there. The fact that Butch continues to hit on Blossom only heightens Brick's interest. Blossom alternates flirting back and outright telling him off. But it's that coy little smirk, I'm telling you, that gets him every time. Brick, I mean. Maybe Boomer, too, come to think of it. But once again, it's obvious that it's only a matter of time before my sisters hook up with their soul mates. Assuming there is such a thing as a soul mate. I'll bet you're surprised I doubt it, aren't you? I guess I always thought Butch was my soul mate...the yin to my yang, just like the way Buttercup and I are two sides to the same coin. Maybe "soul mate" is just another romantic notion used to sell romance novels and movie tickets. Wow. I have been hanging around Buttercup too long, I'm becoming cynical just like her.  
  
Anyway, having said all that, when it comes to me and Boomer, well, we end up just watching the sparks fly from the sidelines. I moon over Butch every time he's within sight, and he sighs quietly whenever he sees Blossom with his brother.  
  
Sometimes I almost hate my sisters. Blossom. She is smart and worldly and sophisticated, and pretty, and every guy wants her. EVERY guy. I'm not exaggerating. I told you, I am in tune with how people are feeling, far more than is healthy, I'm sure.  
  
Buttercup. Buttercup is tough and exotic, with a mysterious demeanor and trim athletic build. Basically, she's an alluring all-around bad ass. Attractive to those with a penchant for danger. ("Penchant" - that was today's word of the day on my calendar. I'm running out of room to hide those darn pages.)  
  
Then there's me. Blonde, buxom, and bubbly. In other words, your stereotypical bimbo. The fact that I'm not confident enough in myself to speak as eloquently as I can in this journal helps reinforce that image every time I open my mouth, especially if I gape for a moment and close it with a snap. Butch once told me I looked like a blow up doll when I did that, and Brick and Buttercup laughed. Blossom hit Brick on the back of the head, but she looked like she was holding in a giggle, herself. It didn't help matters. Encouraged by the reaction, Butch went on to list the features of Blow Up Bubbles, the latex toy of frustrated adolescent males everywhere. They weren't very flattering, reducing everything about me to my external appearance, and suggesting that I had nothing between my ears or within my heart. By the way, I didn't know what a blow up doll was before that day, but I had a pretty good idea of what one was by the end of the evening.  
  
Now I'm not being immodest when I say that most girls would love to have a figure like mine, because it's true. I took philosophy by mistake one semester (don't ask), and we all sat around in a big circle on Mondays and had a debate and discussion on whatever topic was brought up first. Well, one weekend, a girl in class had just broken up with her boyfriend, and the question put before the group that day was "beauty vs. brains" - and let me tell you, most of the girls admitted that they'd rather be beautiful than smart, if they had to choose one or the other. I am glad that Blossom wasn't in that class with me. Then one of the girls looked at me, like she was checking me out, and it was obvious she was angry with me for looking the way I do. It's not like I can help it.   
  
So I have a figure to be envied, one that is envied, but the girls at school don't know what it's like. Guys stare at me, not because I've said something witty or because they appreciate my gentle nature. They leer at my breasts, make crude comments and even cruder gestures. And the BLONDE jokes. I try to put on a brave face and smile at them, showing them I bear them no ill will, but it just makes them think I'm stupid and they make fun of me all the more. As if I'd really go to a store and not know the difference between a TV and a microwave. As if I sit at the kitchen table and stare at the orange juice because it says "concentrate." (OK, I admit, I actually did that one. Blossom laughed so hard she cried.)  
  
The fact that I have had to deal with this attention since before I hit my teens made Butch's little "love doll" insult really hit home. That's another thing. You'd think that we'd all have gone through puberty at the same time, right? Nope. Buttercup will probably never have a very large bosom, not that she wants one. (And I'd know if she really did envy me. Maybe she knows, and doesn't want the attention)  
  
I was twelve when I "gained a rack" as Butch would say. Even though he pointed it out in just those terms back then, I still thought that it was a way of showing his affection for me, his adolescent mating call. How naïve I was. And am.  
  
Despite the fact that Brick sometimes laughs at Butch's less than appropriate comments towards me, he more often than not acts like an older brother. He's actually quite protective of me. If anyone other than Butch had made those types of comments, Brick would have beaten the crap out of them. He scowls darkly at the guys at school if they slip up around him. It only makes it worse when he's nowhere around, because they've been waiting for a chance to leer, but sadly, I have gotten rather used to it.  
  
If I weren't so entranced by Butch, I'd probably have swooned over Brick. Even if he's so smart, he scares me. Butch scares me, too, but I still can't help wishing he would sweep me off my feet.  
  
Such thoughts are disloyal to Buttercup. I'm happy for her, really I am, even if she doesn't know that she's found her "soul mate" yet. (There's that word again. Maybe I do believe they exist and just don't want to admit that Butch isn't mine.)  
  
It just HURTS to see them together, almost as much as it hurts knowing that they are both hurting for want of each other. A love triangle that no one except me sees, pretty funny, isn't it?  
  
Boomer seems bored by the whole thing. Because he's not as boisterous as Brick or as rowdy as Butch, my sisters think he's like me. He's not. He and I really don't have much in common. He has leered at my ample bosom on more than one occasion, but other than that and the occasional "don't you think Blossom looks nice today?" we don't have much to say to each other.  
  
I made the first overture of friendship towards him. One day while our siblings were going through their elaborate mating rituals, I turned to him and asked him what he thought of Blossom's ideas on some project we were all working on. He looked at me oddly, then proceeded to go into a long, admiring review of her new moves, adding in the occasional comment about how well organized her plans were. I nodded and smiled and suffered through it. I knew all that already, and listening to Boomer meant less time watching Butch, preferably if he was wearing something sleeveless. Oh, I could salivate a gallon or more just watching his arms flex as he gestures during one of his anecdotes. But I was talking about Boomer.  
  
After that day, Boomer and I had what might pass for conversation. Usually about Blossom. He would ask me if I thought she'd like this or if she preferred that. He had to be blind if he didn't see the chemistry between her and Brick, though. I told you that we weren't very much alike. The feelings between Blossom and Brick were so thick I could almost SEE them. I won't get started on what I "saw" between Buttercup and Brick, two peas in a pod if ever there were, despite my fondest wishes to the contrary, horrible sister that I am.  
  
To be fair to Boomer, he may have been blind when it came to the direction of Blossom's affection, but apparently he paid more attention to ME than I thought. No, not like that.  
  
I must be a bigger fool than I thought, and haven't been as good at hiding "it" as I hoped. I told you I typically wore my heart on my sleeve, but lately I've been trying to cover it with a sweater, ha. Yeah, I get that little bit of black humor from Buttercup.  
  
Boomer and I were sitting on the floor one afternoon. I had given up on my algebra and started doodling in the margins of my notebook. I kept sneaking glances in Butch's direction, sighing inwardly.  
  
"You're not his type, ya know," Boomer said, out of the blue.  
  
Although I'd swear I'd gotten better at covering up how I feel about Butch, I have never been able to hide my feelings once confronted with them, and Boomer's comment took me by surprise. My face turned bright red as I bent over my notebook, trying to pretend I was fascinated with the squiggles on the page.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said brightly, my eyes shining with unshed tears as I forced a smile on my face and looked him square in the eyes. Little tip I learned from Buttercup. Look 'em straight in the eyes when you lie. Apparently she's wrong about that "works every time" theory.   
  
Boomer frowned at me, as if deciding if I was really dumb enough to think he'd fall for that.  
  
He put his hand on my shoulder awkwardly. "Bubbles," he said, and I felt my stomach plummet at the tone in his voice. "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but I thought you shouldn't get your hopes up so high."  
  
None of the guys had ever actually touched me before, and to have the first contact with any one of them be out of PITY was not to be borne.  
  
I stood up, feeling my back go ramrod straight despite my efforts at looking relaxed and carefree. It didn't much matter, anyway. Boomer wasn't going to be fooled, and Butch's attention was focused on Buttercup as usual.  
  
I glanced at him briefly, noting that apologetic look in his eyes. "Hope is what makes living bearable," I said, and retreated to my room by flying. I knew that I wouldn't be able to walk out of there without doing something stupid like walking into a wall. Any wonder I'm the bimbo? I can't help it. That's how things work. You try to make a statement with your body language, and then you trip over your shoelace or something like that. So I zipped out of there, and I didn't look back once to see if anyone noticed my abrupt departure.   
  
Just another day in my life. "The joy and the laughter" - my ass. 


	2. A Watched Pot Sometimes Boils

A/N: Wow. I am stunned at how well received this fic has been. Thanks for your encouragement. I'll try to respond to reviewers at the end of the chapter.  
  
Let me warn you - I hope this chapter isn't too confusing. I tried experimenting with a different narrative style, and I think it might be easier to read if I could use the HTML formatting to italicize things, but I have to make due with paragraph separations. The only format I have luck with uploading is TXT format. Not sure what I'm doing wrong.  
  
As for the narrative style I used this time, you'll see what I mean.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 2 - A Watched Pot Sometimes Boils  
  
/He put his hand on my shoulder awkwardly. "Bubbles," he said. "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but I thought you shouldn't get your hopes up so high."  
  
None of the guys had ever touched me before, and to have the first contact with any of them be out of pity was not to be borne.  
  
I stood up, feeling my back go ramrod straight. "Hope is what makes living bearable," I said, and retreated to my room.  
  
I didn't look back once to see if anyone noticed my abrupt departure. Just another day in my life. "The joy and the laughter" - my ass./  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
"Last night I sketched Butch in a dozen different poses, each of them seared into my memory. Butch, glaring at Buttercup. Butch, throwing daggers with his eyes. Butch, his eyes full of fiery lust...and...and...I was bawling as my pencil flew across the page, wishing that any of those looks could have been cast in my direction."  
  
Bubbles sighed heavily.   
  
"And then, in a rare fit of anger, I crumpled every one of them up and threw them on the floor. Of course, you know that I ended up picking them up again and smoothing them out. Into the Dark Portfolio they went."  
  
Bubbles looked at her audience, a mangy looking teddy bear.  
  
"This is pathetic, you know," she sighed. "I can't believe I'm sixteen years old and still talking to you like this." She gave it a watery smile. "But you'll never tell anyone, will you?"  
  
It was more than pathetic, she knew, as she stretched out on the bed. The bear.  
  
The bear had been Buttercup's. A few years ago, when they were in seventh grade, Butch had given it to Buttercup as a joke. She had shown what she thought of that joke by torching its ears and then throwing it at Butch before she started pummeling him. They had been going through their mating ritual even then, Bubbles realized.  
  
She fingered the top of the teddy bear's head where the ears had been burnt off by Buttercup's heat vision. Bubbles' infatuation with Butch had been going on even before then. She'd glanced around furtively before retrieving the bear from the garbage, where it had ended up later that evening, when Buttercup decided Butch had had enough and had glared at him as she shoved the thing into the garbage.  
  
Bubbles loved that bear, because Butch had gotten it. It didn't matter that the bear wasn't intended for her. She could always pretend. After all, Buttercup might have turned around and GIVEN it to her, because everyone knew that Bubbles liked cutesy things like teddy bears and unicorns. Bubbles tried to convince herself that had been Butch's intent all along. It wasn't really lying if you only tried to convince yourself, as far as she was concerned, and who was she to say what Butch had really intended? Boys' logic never made sense to her, so it wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility that the bear had been meant for Bubbles.  
  
The bear had been her silent confidante since then. She had kept it carefully hidden away. She didn't know how she'd ever explain to Buttercup where that bear came from. How many bears were there that had their ears burned right off, after all? When she wasn't writing in her journal, something she'd only begun the year before, the bear was there to hear her. It was dangerous, though, to bring out the stuffed animal, whereas the journal was rather innocuous. In her head, she talked to the bear as she wrote in her journal. Now and then, though, when she had the house to herself and felt confident that no one would come home unexpectedly, out came the bear.  
  
Besides, at least she didn't get tongue-tied talking to HIM.  
  
She heard voices downstairs, and quickly stuffed the bear back in his hiding place. She flopped back on the bed and drew the covers over her head. Maybe if they thought she was sick, they would leave her alone.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
I spent the whole day in bed. That's what I told my sisters. In truth, I was working on a miniature oil painting. I had to exorcise the demon in me. When I was finished, I felt better. Art has always been a release for me. I didn't really like to look at the work I'd done during my bouts of depression. Buttercup would have loved it, dark and foreboding and anguished. I really hated to create anything that didn't have some semblance of hope in it, but I guess the hope was present in me, the artist, and it would have to do.  
  
Cathartic. That's today's word of the day. What a weird coincidence.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Boomer thankfully said nothing more about their little conversation, but Bubbles did catch him throwing pitying glances her way. Part of her wanted to scoff at his infatuation with Blossom, in retaliation for his attempt to crush her flimsy hopes, but she just couldn't bring herself to hurt his feelings that way.  
  
Unfortunately, the fact that he looked her way more than once was all his brothers needed to decide that Boomer had 'a thing for Bubbles.'   
  
~~~~~~~  
  
"Butch commented, rather loudly, something along the lines of...if Boomer ever couldn't handle the weight of my breasts, he'd be more than happy to pinch hit for him. Except in much more colorful language and with rude gestures to accompany it.  
  
"It HURT," she told the bear. "It really hurt. Butch had ignored me for so long, and then he only notices me because he thinks his brother is interested? And on top of that, he only noticed me for what I LOOK like? How does that make him any different from anyone else? We've known each other a long time, how could he treat me like that?" She wiped at the tears on her face angrily. She was glad they'd all decided to stop pestering her to go to the movies that night. She felt a little bad leaving Boomer as the fifth wheel, but on the other hand, it was his fault that she was receiving this unwelcome attention, so he had to deal with the consequences of his actions.  
  
"Why did he have to keep LOOKING at me like that? And how could anyone mistake those glances as meaning...AAARGH! It was obvious Boomer felt SORRY for me, even though I made it perfectly clear that he didn't need to do so. But nooooo..."  
  
She stood up and started pacing the room, glancing at the bear as if she were checking to see if he were listening.  
  
"I mean, I wanted Butch's attention, but not like that. Be careful what you wish for, right? To think I wanted those lusty looks thrown my way. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if I thought...I don't know. If I thought he REALLY lusted after me, and wasn't just being a jerk about it because he thinks Boomer is - 'eager to get in my pants' among several other choice comments that he made."  
  
She picked up her hairbrush and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the ponytail holder loose and tossing it on the nightstand before running her fingers through her hair.  
  
"All of them think the same thing about me, you know. Ditzy, emotional, gullible," she ticked off the traits on her fingers with the hairbrush. "All true. None of them know how deep my emotions run, though. They THINK they do, but they only know that I'm the first to break down and cry, the first to laugh, and that usually my emotions are plainly written on my face. You'd think that would be enough, but it's not. No one understands me."  
  
She set the brush on the bed and toyed with the frayed ribbon around the bear's neck, a soft smile gracing her lips.  
  
"That's not quite true, either. The professor does. He's like me in that respect. I don't think Blossom or Buttercup understand how deeply HE feels things, either. When someone forms an opinion of you, it's very hard to change it, especially when everything they see tends to support their opinion." Her smile grew a little wider and she picked up her hairbrush again. "Hmm. Knowing that I have this in common with my father is the only thing that makes me feel like it's not a curse."  
  
She hummed softly as she brushed her hair, winking at the bear as if they'd just shared a great secret.  
  
~~~~~  
  
A week after Boomer popped Bubbles' balloon of happiness, they were gathered in the living room, all of them sitting on the floor with their backs against the couch except for Brick and Blossom, who were playing chess at the table. Boomer was playing his hand held video game, Bubbles was reading a romance novel, and Butch and Buttercup were watching pro wrestling on TV, arguing over which finishing moves were best and who really deserved to win the championship.  
  
~~~~~  
  
I don't know when it started. Boomer was on my right, and at first, Butch was on my left. At some point, I started to feel all tingly. It wasn't the same as the way I usually feel when I'm next to Butch, though. I take that back; I DO know when it started. Butch had been sitting near me, but when they'd started arguing, he'd turned away from the TV and was facing Buttercup, who was on his other side. The two of them were gesturing wildly to emphasize their comments, and they were both as loud as always. It was the quiet that actually distracted me. I noticed that Butch was grunting instead of yelling to make a point, and I looked up at the two of them. And that's when I knew - I KNEW - that today was The Day.  
  
Boomer must have noticed the intensity of my gaze, because he glanced up at me, then at Butch and Buttercup. Yeah, he'd still been giving me the occasional look of pity. I think it makes him feel better about his own little crush.  
  
So here's what was going on. Buttercup was demonstrating one of those wrestling moves on Butch, and he managed to break free, flip her around, and trap her between his legs. She lay on her back, cussing a blue streak, as he leaned over her and crowed. Loudly. What a surprise.  
  
Wait, it gets better. Brick and Blossom were OBLIVIOUS to the sexual tension that practically crackled in the room. Despite the fact that I still wanted Butch for myself, and that I was still hurting from his crude comments of the week before, I found myself whispering, "Go for it, Butch." Boomer looked at me oddly, but I didn't care.  
  
Buttercup started struggling wildly, tucking in her knees in an attempt to throw him off. Butch just laughed, capturing her wrists and leaning rather heavily against her shins so she was effectively trapped by her own legs. She paused a minute, then did manage to kick him off her by extending both legs. Unfortunately, or fortunately as the case may be, Butch didn't relinquish his grip on her wrists, and as he flipped over, she went with him. They somersaulted several times on the ground before slamming against the wall. Blossom yelled, "Watch the rough housing!" but didn't look up. Brick glanced at them once, then returned his attention to the chessboard.  
  
I was practically tearing my novel in two, but the romance unfolding before me was much more engaging than the printed version in my hands.  
  
The two of them starting fighting in earnest, and if it were...an opera, I just knew this would be where the singing would get really loud, where the notes would be held for a long time, and the music would send shivers down your spine from the vibrations. I know that sounds stupid, but I half expected some kind of musical 'soundtrack' to start, to set the tone for what was about to happen.  
  
I remember dropping my book and coming to my knees, leaning forward as if I would miss something. I felt Boomer move next to me.  
  
I suddenly realized that, after Blossom's chastisement, that she and Brick were much too quiet, especially considering that World War III was still going on not twenty feet away. It's not like they were noisy when they played chess, but they carried on conversations all the time, and sometimes they tried to psych each other out. That background noise was gone, so I snuck a peek at them. Their eyes were locked on to each other's. Blossom's face had gone all soft, and Brick's hand had captured hers as they both held one of the chess pieces. Then her hand, with the chess piece (the horse, it will always be the horse to me because I have no intention of letting Blossom teach me that game) slowly slid out of Brick's hand and she placed the horse on the table. I swear it was like she was moving in slow motion. I hadn't expected THEIR relationship to take such a drastic turn, but that's probably because they were much more subtle in their mating ritual than Butch and Buttercup were. Boomer must have seen it, too, because I heard his intake of breath.  
  
I returned my attention to the wrestling match going on. Buttercup was bucking like mad, still trying to dislodge Butch. She was wildly throwing punches and he was deflecting every one of them. One of her fists aimed right for his face, and he caught it. I could see the muscles in their arms straining. They both were staring at each other, panting from exertion, and I was squirming with excitement. What can I say, I live vicariously.  
  
Without warning, Butch pulled Buttercup to him by her trapped hand and covered her mouth with his own, his other arm going behind her back to hold her up. She stiffened at first, frozen in his embrace. His free hand caressed the back of her head, and she visibly relaxed. Her body actually seemed to melt against his, and she started kissing him back. Tears ran freely down my face as I watched the two of them give in to the passion that had plagued them for so long. They just looked so right together. It hurt, but I knew that I had needed to see it, to see how damn perfect they were for each other. I ducked back behind the couch and sniffed. I guess this is what they mean by "closure." Just because it was necessary doesn't mean it didn't 'hurt like a bitch' - only fitting to use one of Buttercup's expressions in this case.  
  
I had to turn away from the sight of the two of them, and that's when I noticed Boomer, who had moved back to his position with his back against the couch. His face was bright red, and he looked angry. I looked at him thoughtfully. It seemed as though he was going to just sit there in silence, processing what he'd seen between Blossom and Brick, but instead, he turned to me and laughed. He actually laughed at me, and it was a harsh laugh. I don't think I've ever heard him make a sound like that, not ever.  
  
"I told you that you weren't his type," he said. The expression on his face was not pleasant.  
  
Normally I try to consider why people feel the need to say things, even when they hurt my feelings and make me cry. Maybe it was because I was already crying, and going through a riot of emotions on my own, between joy for Buttercup and sorrow for myself, and longing for something like THAT in my own life...that I turned around and slapped him. Hard. A bright red handprint was on his face, and he looked ready to throttle me, but then he crossed his arms and turned his back to me, effectively telling me I wasn't worth the time or effort.  
  
I got to my feet and left the room. With the 'love-in' that the living room was becoming, I doubted that anyone had noticed what had just taken place between me and Boomer, and frankly, I didn't care.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
A/N Part 2:  
  
I really debated on going back through this chapter and making it all first person perspective, in Bubbles' POV, again. I don't know whether this will work for the rest of the story. It's even possible that I might go back in and reupload this chapter if it seems that people find it difficult to follow. In fact, I uploaded Chapter 1 THREE times, all within a 24-hour period of time, and yet I had received some reviews for it in between each version. If you read it the first day, you might want to see what I added to the chapter, but if you don't, it won't affect your understanding of future events.  
  
I was truly shocked at the immediacy of reviews. I think it says something about the PPG fan base. I do try to write something that I enjoy, and I will never threaten to NOT continue a story if I don't receive reviews. Now that I've added a second chapter, I'm pretty much committed to continuing it, because where the first chapter worked well as a one shot, the addition of chapter 2 has really made a continuation necessary. There's that "closure" Bubbles was talking about.  
  
I don't remember which of them had the heat vision or ice vision - it's been a while since that episode, but then again, I also say that Bubbles is "fingering" the ribbon, too. But since Blossom was certainly capable of snapping her fingers...then there must be fingers to snap, right? Call it artistic license and the onset of puberty if some things are a bit noncanon, OK?  
  
Responses to reviews:  
  
samantha - Yes, I agree, there have been many signs that Bubbles is not an airhead. I won't say anything as to the way her sisters are because I don't want to give anything away - if there turns out to be anything to give away later on.  
  
Autumn Leaves - I really had written this with the intent of having multiple chapters, and the reason that I was able to post the second chapter so quickly is because I have about three chapters in rough draft form, but I wasn't sure if the story was leaning more towards an R than a PG-13. I'm glad you agreed that it works well as a stand-alone, because I had hoped to have something that could go either way. I'm usually not one for angst, unless there is hope to go with it. I think it's becoming a trend in my stories!  
  
Starship Gazer - I am more like Buttercup myself, I think. But I got to thinking that Bubbles, by her very nature, could be the most philosophical of them all. Glad you liked that line. Hard to believe I wrote it, being the Queen of Pessimism at times!  
  
Ud the imp - I have a penchant for stories written in the first person, but it's often difficult to keep them in character that way. Glad you liked it. I don't think it's too OOC for her, though, because she is much older now. I will try to check out your stories this holiday weekend.  
  
Hairy Gregory - You've summed up my thoughts on the whole adolescence thing - the most painful time of my entire life, I think. I like fluffy romance, too, because there's enough of the angsty stuff in real life. I'm very flattered that you gave this story a chance. I can't respond to anything else, because otherwise I'd give away my plans for the end of this thing!  
  
BBubblehead33 - well, I actually experimented with the POV this time around, because it might come in handy later on, but I'm not sure if it works this way. I felt it best conveyed Bubbles' thoughts if it were written in first person. I know a lot of people hate changing POV stories, so I guess I'll have to see how this is received and how the rest of the story plays out. Thanks for the feedback.  
  
cerberus5550 - I probably shouldn't post this next chapter so quickly, because I only have about three chapters written so far, which is why I wanted to just post the first chapter. I haven't ever done a story that wasn't finished before I posted it, but there's a first time for everything. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. 


	3. As Things Appear on the Surface

Chapter 3  
  
Buttercup spent the rest of the week complaining long and loud about Butch, but in spite of her too-vehement protests, she was actually glowing. Seemed she was always finding some reason why she had to linger behind at school, or go in early. That's right, Buttercup actually getting up and out of bed without Blossom hauling her out by her hair. Tell me that doesn't mean something right there. You can't, can you?  
  
The following weekend she came to my room and sat on my bed. She told me that she felt she just had to talk to someone, and there was no way she could tell Blossom. She confessed that she and Butch had been intimate (my words - hers left a lot less to the imagination). I wasn't surprised. Of all of us, somehow I'd always known she'd be the first. Geez, I make it sound like she got her driver's license or something. Not that we really NEED to drive, considering the fact that we can fly, but, still... The point is, I am making it sound like it was nothing. I guess I wasn't overly concerned because, although Butch trampled all over my heart without a second thought, I knew that he wouldn't do that to Buttercup. Knowing that...even if he did, she'd make sure he limped for a week. Take that however you like.  
  
So as she confessed this Big, No-Turning-Back, Life-Changing Event (can't you just HEAR the capital letters in that?), I smiled and nodded at all the appropriate places, added a couple of girlish squeals and even threw in some sisterly bonding hugs. Truth? Those I didn't have to fake. I was flattered that Buttercup felt she could confide in me, and I really do love my sister. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but even though it still feels like my heart is bleeding, I really am happy for her. Yeah, I know, I had my closure and all that, but that doesn't mean that I am magically over my broken heart.  
  
I don't fully agree with their jumping into the more physical aspect of their relationship so soon, but I think that it might be okay for them. It never was just THAT between the two of them, even if it has been...tangible. Yes, that's the word. Even if their attraction was tangible, it wasn't the only thing they felt for each other. I don't doubt that for a second. As I've said before, I'm pretty good at reading emotions, and the two of them are chock full of them.  
  
I know I said that Buttercup and Blossom were closer to each other than I was to either of them, but then something like this happens, and I realize that maybe it's not a matter of how close we are to each other, but more...how do I explain this. It's like we relate to each other on different levels. Buttercup would never in a million years feel comfortable talking to Blossom about this. I wonder if I should have asked Buttercup if they taken appropriate precautions.  
  
I wonder if Butch told Brick or Boomer about what happened.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
"I don't know who they think they are fooling, really I don't. Buttercup and Butch have always seemed obvious to me, but now that they've actually admitted their mutual attraction for each other, and acted on it, I don't think anyone could miss it.  
  
"They actually HOLD HANDS now. Buttercup and Butch! Except they are trying to hide it. But the only way to do that is to walk next to each other, fairly closely, so that their hands are hidden among sleeves and partly shielded by their bodies. Yeah, you might not notice the handholding, I'll give them that, but there is no way you could miss that closeness. They used to go out of their way to keep distance between them, and now you're lucky to see light -"  
  
"Who are you talking, to Bubbles?"  
  
Bubbles' eyes went wide with panic as she heard Blossom's voice outside her bedroom, and she managed to stuff the bear under the pillow before her sister's head peeked in the open doorway.  
  
"Oh, hey," she chirped at the redhead, who took that as an invitation to enter and sat down on the edge of Bubbles' bed, leaning against the pillows. Bubbles' struggled to keep her expression calm and her eyes on her sister.  
  
"I thought you were at the library," Bubbles said.  
  
Blossom waved her hand in the air dismissively. "The internet is a much better resource for the topic of our debate," she scoffed. "I don't know why I thought I might find something there."  
  
"I thought Brick was doing the online research?"  
  
"No, he was going to check out the -" Blossom stopped and narrowed her eyes at her sister. "Who were you talking to when I got home?"  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Blossom is good. She doesn't react immediately. It's part of what makes her such a good strategist. She didn't look guilty when she started to tell me what Brick was supposed to be doing, even though it's quite possible she knew that *I* knew that Brick was in charge of the library research.  
  
This debate was going to be different. Brick and Blossom were going up against another couple. Usually they were on opposing teams, and I actually had stayed after school to watch a few of their practice sessions on occasion. Of course, the fact that Butch had detention on those very same days was entirely coincidental, ha!  
  
I know that I've been stuck on writing about the whole Butch-and-Buttercup thing, with good reason, but the reason I haven't said much about Brick and Blossom is because there really hasn't been much to say.  
  
They were not just more subtle around each other, I am starting to think they are actually clueless about how they feel.  
  
Butch and Buttercup were never ignorant of their feelings for each other. Not ever. They denied it like hell, though. They went out of their way to try to convince themselves that they didn't feel that way. I had hoped that, during that time of exploring outside interests, Butch would discover that he actually had feelings for me, basically ditching the whole 'soul mates' theory.   
  
I know, I know, but love isn't SUPPOSED to make sense, which is why I had held onto that hope that things would change, and that suddenly all the things he felt for Buttercup would magically be directed at me, who, I was sure, was certainly more deserving of affection. What? It's true. Maybe not more deserving, perhaps, but definitely one who would be more comfortable on the receiving end of that type of affection.  
  
The way that Blossom has been acting, I wonder if maybe Boomer's hope has gotten a recharge.  
  
I thought for sure that, after that little moment of contact during their chess game, that Blossom had that sense of 'knowing.' It makes me want to laugh, though, because for someone as smart as she is, she is awfully unsure of what she is feeling, or if she really feels anything at all. I'm not sure about Brick, because I haven't seen him since that night. I'll bet I could tell a lot better if I saw the two of them together.  
  
I do, though, know darn well that Brick was the one who was assigned to do the library research, and I know that that's why Blossom went there. I don't think SHE knew that's why she had gone there. When I asked her about it, I'm sure she started to tell me that Brick had been given library duty, not internet research. As soon as she started to voice that, though, she realized what she was going to say.  
  
I'm not sure yet if she was more disturbed because, up until I'd posed the question, she'd managed to convince herself that SHE had the library assignment, or because she knew all along that Brick was going to be there, but hadn't consciously intended to see him there. That's why she decided to avoid the issue by changing the subject.  
  
It worked, too. I am sure I blushed, because I could feel my face get hot.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
"What?"  
  
"Who were you talking to?"  
  
"No one." At Blossom's look of disbelief, Bubbles hurriedly added, "I mean, I was just practicing a speech I have to give in English lit." She winced internally at the hastily given excuse. She knew what was coming next.  
  
"You're taking English lit?"  
  
Bubbles placed her hand over her face and rubbed her temples. "Yes."  
  
Blossom noted the weary gesture with some concern. "Do you want some help with it?"  
  
"What? No, I'll be fine."  
  
"Are you sure? I took that class last year. Which book did you select, and what stance are you defending?"  
  
It was true that Bubbles had a speech to prepare, but she didn't have to so for another three weeks, and therefore she hadn't yet chosen a book. Fortunately Blossom decided to list the various novels that she'd studied the previous year, along with the viewpoints she'd presented in class. Bubbles just nodded mutely, relieved that she was saved from actually having to answer. She was pretty sure that she was not going to select any of the books that Blossom mentioned, for fear of being unfavorably compared to her sister should her own standpoint not measure up to the teacher's expectations. It happened enough as it was. Buttercup had often complained about the unfairness of it all, ever since Blossom had started taking advanced courses. She had also complained when they were in the same classes for the same reason. Bubbles didn't care for the comparisons, either, but she never took it personally like Buttercup did.  
  
Finally Blossom stopped to take a breath, and noticed that Bubbles seemed a bit overwhelmed.  
  
"Are you OK, Bubbles?"  
  
"Yeah, fine. Just tired, I guess."  
  
"Well, it's no wonder. Honestly, Bubbles, these pillows are incredibly lumpy," she said, turning and punching them to illustrate her point, then frowning ever so slightly. "Hey, what's this?" She started to slide her hand under the pillow, but Bubbles was quicker. In a flash of blue, she had grabbed the pillows and the item hidden between them and returned to her side of the bed. Blossom raised an eyebrow at her.  
  
"I happen to LIKE these pillows," Bubbles defended.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Response to reviewers:  
  
Hairy Gregory - the part about Blossom snapping her fingers actually took place in one of the episodes, and I remember wondering just how she could do that without fingers of some sort. You're right, they do tend to magically have fingers in most stories, although I did read one in which they did not. However, for purposes of this story, I am just as guilty of granting them fingers. It's Blossom's fault for that finger snapping, I tell you! :) As for two romances blossoming at the same time, my thoughts were that "there's something in the air" - and it sounds lame and schmaltzy, but I think that it's entirely possible for someone to feel more affected, emotionally, given the environment they are in. Of course, you've read this chapter, and see that, in the absence of that same environment, things are a bit different. The road to true love was never paved smoothly, eh?  
  
Ud the imp - I pictured Boomer's laughing as a defense mechanism as well.  
  
Autumn Leaves - It's funny you mention that she now knows she's not the one for Butch. Too bad it's not as easy to accept something you know is true. That's all I'm going to say about that! ;)  
  
Starship Gazer - thanks. I was worried about the narrative style, but I think that sometimes it helps to alternate between Bubbles' POV and an unbiased third person view. As long as it doesn't confuse anyone, I think I'll stick with it for a while. I think it might have worked a little better in this chapter. 


	4. Like a Brother

/"Well, it's no wonder. Honestly, Bubbles, these pillows are incredibly lumpy," she said, turning and punching them to illustrate her point, then frowning ever so slightly. "Hey, what's this?" She started to slide her hand under the pillow, but Bubbles was quicker. In a flash of blue, she had grabbed the pillows and the item hidden between them and returned to her side of the bed. Blossom raised an eyebrow at her.  
  
"I happen to LIKE these pillows," Bubbles defended./  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 4 - Like a Brother  
  
I can't believe she bought it. I guess that's a benefit of being the type of person who still has her baby blanket. Actually, it's not MY baby blanket, it's Buttercup's, but she really didn't want to get rid of it, and so I have it. I guess it's only fitting, then, that I have her bear, too.  
  
Blossom just rolled her eyes at me and left me alone. I think it took at least five minutes for my heart rate to return to normal. It's very hard to pull something over on Blossom. I suppose she might suspect that my reactions to her assault on my pillows were a bit much, but she just shook her head at me and told me to make sure I drank enough water, and replenished my electrolytes, and that if I felt that tired, I should tackle the speech in the morning.   
  
With luck, she won't ask me about the book until I've at least chosen the title. Or maybe she'll have to spend more time with Brick preparing for the debate. I think it's a given that the two of them will win. Alone, they make convincing arguments, but together, I pity their opponents.   
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
"That's not going to work," Blossom said, frowning and shaking her head.  
  
"Why not?" Brick was obviously not in agreement.  
  
"It has nothing to do with the facts at hand. That is pure speculation, and I am surprised you didn't realize that."  
  
"Blossom," Brick sighed, running a hand through his newly shorn hair. "We are trying to make a convincing argument. That means that you pull out all the stops. Geez, Blossom, you're a chick. I thought you'd be all into the emotional aspect of this topic."  
  
"If I wanted emotional input, I'd ask Bubbles," Blossom replied, growing more irritated. "Bubbles!"  
  
Bubbles had been tiptoeing up the stairs on her way to her room when her sister called her. She cringed, then turned, one hand on the railing.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Come here for a minute."  
  
Bubbles repressed a sigh and reshouldered the knapsack that had slid down her arm, trudging down the stairs to join the other two. She didn't like the triumphant look Blossom was giving her, and wondered why she hadn't just flown up the stairs as soon as she got in the door. Next time, she promised herself.  
  
"What do you think about animal experimentation?" Brick and Blossom blurted out at the same time. They glared at each other, then turned to Bubbles again.  
  
Bubbles bottom lip pouted slightly. "I think it's unnecessarily cruel to creatures who have no way of protecting themselves." Blossom squinted at her slightly at those last words, and Bubbles was regretting opening her mouth. 'Please, please,' she pled, 'don't let Blossom know about what happened last week.'  
  
"But what if there was no other way to test the validity of a new drug? Or to determine the efficacy of a prototype modification?"  
  
"Blossom, can't you see that she has no idea what you're talking about?" Brick snorted. "Bubbles, let me ask you this. Are there any circumstances that you'd consider where animal testing would be acceptable?"  
  
Bubbles didn't appreciate the way Brick assumed that she didn't understand what Blossom had asked, even if it was partly true. She had gotten the gist of what Blossom meant, at any rate. Despite her annoyance, she felt warm inside at the way he asked the question gently, knowing how sensitive she was to that topic. She smiled at him, then bit a fingernail as she pondered the question.  
  
"Don't bite your nails."  
  
"Shut up, Blossom, and let her think. Damn it, I assume you don't have any nervous habits?"  
  
Blossom bit her lip to keep from snapping at him, and narrowed her eyes at her sister.  
  
"Aaaah..."  
  
"Way to go, Blossom." Brick threw up his hands in frustration.  
  
"I'm just saying," Blossom defended herself. "It's not a good habit."  
  
"For cryin' out LOUD, Blossom, we didn't even HAVE fingers until fairly recently!"  
  
"All the more reason why she should take care of them now."  
  
Bubbles cleared her throat nervously, and both sets of eyes swung towards her. She called herself ten kinds of a fool for not taking the opportunity to escape upstairs.  
  
"Bubbles," Blossom said, and she seemed almost contrite. "I just hate to see you develop a habit like that. Behaviors are more difficult to abandon once they've become firmly established, even if it's as a coping mechanism."  
  
Bubbles nodded. That was as close as she'd get to an apology from Blossom, she supposed.  
  
"Do you mind answering the question, Bubbles?" Brick's red eyes bored into her own powder blue ones, and she shook her head slowly.  
  
"No, I don't mind," she said. "And...I guess that, I don't know. I don't think so, but maybe you could give me some examples and if something were to change my mind, then I can let you know."  
  
"I don't see where this is helping us with the debate," Blossom interjected. Brick held up a finger, never breaking eye contact with Bubbles.  
  
At the warm look in Brick's eyes, everything seemed to crash down on her. The difference in the way Brick looked at her compared to the way Butch did, the fact that the two of them had something very precious and were too blind to see it, the idea of animal experimentation to begin with, and the very real fear that Blossom would somehow realize that she had taken part in a Free the Animals protest the previous week. She'd tried so very hard to not use her superpowers to break in to the lab where the animals were housed, because she didn't want to leave such an obvious clue, but she couldn't help it. She'd said a silent prayer afterwards that it looked more like a laser torch had been used to cut around the doorknob, but Blossom had a way of putting together solutions with very little evidence.  
  
A cry escaped her, and she dropped her book bag on the floor as she flew up the stairs and slammed the door to her room behind her.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
"Why can't I have fallen for someone like Brick? Oh, that's right, because he's not meant for me either. It's not fair!" Bubbles bent her head over the very wet bear, the tears sparkling on her lashes. She wiped her arm across her nose.  
  
"Ewwww," she said, smiling weakly. "Gross." She grabbed a tissue, wiped her nose and her arm, then tossed it toward the wastebasket, missing, before flopping on her back and putting the bear on her stomach.  
  
"I know," she sighed. "Who said life was fair, right?" She lifted one arm and draped it over her eyes.  
  
A knock sounded at her door. She ignored it.  
  
"Bubbles?" a tentative voice called.  
  
"She's not here," Bubbles groaned.  
  
"Let me come in, Bubbles," Blossom said from the other side of the door.  
  
'As if my permission, or lack of it, ever stopped you from entering my room before,' Bubbles thought, then sat up abruptly, knocking the bear to the floor.  
  
'SHIT!' she thought, in a panic.  
  
"Bubbles?"  
  
Bubbles grabbed the bear from the floor and shoved it into the drawer of her nightstand, then flopped back on the bed, pulling a pillow over her head. Might as well get it over with.  
  
"Fine, come in, then."  
  
Blossom opened the door slowly, and she entered with very slow steps, as if she were approaching a wounded animal. The irony wasn't lost on Bubbles.  
  
"Can I sit down?"  
  
Bubbles waved to the side of the bed, and Blossom gingerly sat down, poised for immediate flight.  
  
"I'm sorry, Bubbles." At her sister's continued silence, she clasped her hands together. "I really am, you know. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Brick was right," she sighed. "Sometimes I am too analytical, but I recognize that arguments can be compelling when they are passionate just as well as when they are factual. More so if they are both."  
  
Bubbles mumbled something into the pillow.  
  
"What?"  
  
The blonde pulled the pillow off her face and sat up. "I said you're passionate, Blossom."  
  
The redhead looked as if she were going to disagree, but Bubbles placed a hand on Blossom's leg.  
  
"You should watch tapes of your past debates," she said. "You are really good at presenting a case, Blossom, and part of the reason you win is because you speak with such..."  
  
"Conviction?"  
  
"Yeah. You may form an opinion based on facts, but because of those facts, you have such unshaken faith in that opinion, that..." she trailed off, suddenly aware that she was talking to Blossom, and she was unable to find the words to express her thoughts coherently.  
  
Blossom rested her hand atop Bubbles'.  
  
"So my passion is in facts," she said with exaggerated resignation, then laughed. Bubbles gave her a weak smile in return and nodded mutely.  
  
Blossom released her sister's hand and stood up.  
  
"Thanks, Bubbles," she said. "Your input really was advantageous to the topic at hand, and I appreciate what it may have cost you to provide it."  
  
"No prob," Bubbles said.  
  
Blossom was at the door. "I have to get back to Brick before he thinks I came here to psychoanalyze you," she said.  
  
"Mmm hmm." Bubbles had closed her eyes and pulled the pillow over her face.  
  
"Bubbles?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Blossom was silent for a moment. "I -"  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"I don't think -"  
  
"Mmm?" Bubbles prompted again, throwing one arm over the pillow that covered her eyes.  
  
"I don't think that we will have meat for dinner tonight, OK? I will make sure it's completely vegetarian. Um, so, OK, I'll let you know when it's ready."  
  
The snick of the door closing told Bubbles that she was alone once again.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Blossom wanted to tell me something, I think, but chickened out. Blossom does not struggle to find the right words. She doesn't stammer. She was stalling, too, like she didn't want to leave my room until she said what she had to say.  
  
That's alright with me, though. Sometimes Blossom makes things worse when she tries to fix them with logic, and even though I know that she doesn't mean to, she can't help it. I think Brick said something to her.  
  
Brick is - he's a romantic, I think. You can't say that about many guys, and you would never say that about any of the Rowdyruff Boys, right? Maybe 'romantic' is a bit strong. This is one of those times that I wish I had Blossom's mastery over the English language.  
  
OK. It's not that Brick is romantic, it's that he would make an excellent romantic hero. That's what I mean.  
  
Surprising, isn't it, that I say that about Brick, considering my feelings for Butch? But I've said Butch was the brooding anti-hero, and that is still true. Brick, though, doesn't brood. He is smart, as smart as Blossom, and if you ask me, it's because he's so smart that he recognizes that people's feelings matter.  
  
So why doesn't the same thing apply to Blossom?  
  
I honestly don't know. If she were more like Buttercup, I'd say it's because she was going out of her way to buck the female stereotype (yeah, the one that I fill in almost every way). But Blossom never seemed too fixed on labels like Buttercup was. Buttercup said she didn't buy into the whole clique-thing and the "high school hierarchy" - but all that meant was that HER group of friends all said the same thing, and they formed their own anti-clique.  
  
The prefix "anti" comes up a lot when I describe The Greens, doesn't it?  
  
I think Blossom might look very nice wearing green.  
  
So where was I?  
  
I shouldn't call them that, Butch and Buttercup, I mean. To be described by the color of our eyes...and of our childhood wardrobe, seems lacking in originality.  
  
Of course, The Blues seems to describe me and Boomer these days. Aren't I witty? Or maybe 'sardonic' would be a better adjective. Take that, Blossom.  
  
I think I need to start cracking skulls together. Blossom's cluelessness is making me edgy. For crying out loud, she LOVES him. Wouldn't you think that it would be obvious to her? I knew that I was in love with Butch, after all. How hard can it be?  
  
I am getting a headache with all of this. It's like I'm beating a dead horse. I actually hate that expression, by the way.  
  
Speaking of hopeless causes (was I? Well, I am now)...Boomer has gotten his hair cut, and let me tell you, it is SO obvious that he only did it because Brick got his cut first. They have the EXACT SAME haircut! It looks good on Brick, but Boomer's face doesn't do it justice. Makes his face look too much like a big "V". Brick's face is what they call oval shaped, but Boomer...I guess he has a heart-shaped face. I read somewhere that people with oval shaped faces can wear almost any hairstyle they wish. Yes, OK, I've been reading teen magazines. Can I help it? I'm a teenaged girl, and it's considered normal to brush up on that stuff. I don't do anything with the knowledge, but it's good to know that I can wear my hair any way I want, and it will still look good. Unlike Buttercup, whose elongated face almost requires her to go with the perpetual bob. She'd give me a horrible noogie if she knew I called her hairstyle a "bob" - too preppy a term for her.  
  
Forgive my temporary obsession with hair and fashion. It's easier to think about stuff like that than about the stupidity of my sister.  
  
It annoys me. She has love handed to her on a cracker, and her taste buds are too numb to notice.  
  
This is what I get for having a soft spot for Brick, my eternal big brother figure.  
  
I think I'm going to sit down and eat a pint of Häagen-Dazs. Dulce De Leche, I think.  
  
And if Blossom asks, she isn't getting as much as a single spoonful.  
  
~~~~~~~ 


	5. Mystery Makes Reality Pale in Comparison

Chapter 5 - Mystery Makes Reality Pale in Comparison  
  
~~~~  
  
"You didn't tell her."  
  
Blossom looked at Brick's accusing stare. "Tell her what?"  
  
Brick looked like he was going to argue, then leaned back and sighed heavily.  
  
"That you don't think she's stupid."  
  
"I never said I thought she was stupid."  
  
"Blossom, you don't have to. It's in every facet of your face, in the way you talk to her, you practically vibrate with this 'I'm smarter than you' vibe, and frankly, it's intimidating."  
  
"Bubbles needs to be protected," Blossom said lamely.  
  
"Protection. Blossom, she's just as powerful as you, or Buttercup, or for that matter, me and Butch and Boomer. She's a Powerpuff Girl, remember?"  
  
"That's not what I mean!"  
  
"What do you know that I don't, Blossom?"  
  
Blossom refused to answer, staring at the wall instead. Her hand clenched tightly in her lap.  
  
"Blossom?"  
  
"What." Her voice was testy.  
  
"What's that in your lap?"  
  
"My hand."  
  
"And what is in your hand?"  
  
"Just...just a ribbon."  
  
Brick knelt on the floor next to her and unfolded her clenched fingers.  
  
"Blue?"  
  
"I...found it..."  
  
"Blossom, is this what you've been staring at in study hall when you're supposed to be working on our biology project?"  
  
"It's a simple 3D model of a DNA sequence, and it's for extra credit!"  
  
Brick hadn't released his grip on her hand. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand.  
  
"Your middle name is Avoidance, you realize that, don't you?"  
  
"And your middle name is Annoyance."  
  
He bit his lip for a minute, then stood up. "I think I'm going to go. You have copies of all my notes, and you can review them later." He looked at her bowed head, her hair shielding her face from his view, before grabbing his books and shoving them in his knapsack. He levitated towards the door, then stopped with his hand on the knob.  
  
"Blossom?" He didn't expect her to answer, and she didn't.  
  
"She did it because she doesn't know how else to help them, and not just to spite you."  
  
He gave her one last long look before shutting the door behind him.  
  
"I know," Blossom whispered into the empty room.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
She knows. She knows! SHE KNOWS!  
  
Oh. My. God.  
  
Eavesdroppers will never hear anything good about themselves, the saying goes.  
  
Was that the case? I don't know.  
  
I never should have sat at the top of the stairs waiting to see if Brick would make a move on my sister. I didn't think, after Blossom's discomfort when she left my room, that she'd have suddenly opened her damn eyes and seen what was right in front of her, but I have this sick fascination with the love lives of my sisters. Must be because I don't have one of my own.  
  
I thought I'd lost that stupid ribbon at the library, but come to think of it, I did need to keep my hair out of my eyes. What was the point of not using my powers to break in to the animal lab if I was going to leave such an obvious calling card? Geez, the thing practically had "Bubbles was here" written all over it!  
  
How long had she known? Why hadn't she told the Professor? Why hadn't she said anything to me? She never worried about acting like my mother before.  
  
Brick knew?  
  
I have a headache. I should have stayed in my room with my head under the pillow.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
"Come on, Turk, move it or lose it!"  
  
"You are SUCH a pain in the ass," Buttercup retorted, throwing her eye pencil into the sink and storming out of the bathroom.  
  
Butch was leaning against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, and Buttercup flew at him in a streak of green. The two of them rolled several times before coming to a stop against the wall. Buttercup was on top, and she smirked at him.  
  
"I win."  
  
He scowled at her as the two of them got to their feet. The two had been more open with their relationship, at least around their siblings, and Bubbles sighed heavily at their familiar exchange.  
  
Brick and Boomer had come by with Butch, who was making a habit of "walking" Buttercup to school every morning. Brick eyed the wall, then shot a glance at Butch.  
  
"I think we should have that wall bronzed," he said dryly. Blossom looked at him with a start.  
  
"Hey! This isn't even your house!"  
  
"I accede to your wishes," he said with a wink in Bubbles' direction. Boomer tensed up as Brick put a hand on Blossom's back and gestured toward the door with the other. "Shall we?"  
  
Blossom relaxed her posture, realizing that Brick had only been kidding, and smiled at him. She looked behind her. "You guys coming?"  
  
Bubbles and Boomer shared a look, and Boomer trudged after them. Bubbles picked up her book bag and locked the door behind them. Two green streaks were seen in the sky as she turned to the other three.  
  
"Was she wearing makeup?" Blossom asked.  
  
"You wear makeup," Brick reminded her, placing the tip of his thumb under her glossed lips.  
  
"That's not the same," she said, swallowing heavily. She turned toward Bubbles. "Bubbles, you know what I mean, right?"  
  
Bubbles was tempted to cross her arms and lean against the house in unconscious imitation of Butch's earlier posture, but instead she nodded.  
  
"Yes, but they're guys. They don't get it."  
  
Brick grinned at her and Boomer rolled his eyes. Blossom, encouraged by the small show of support, immediately launched into a comparison between cosmetics that were meant to enhance and those that were meant to convey a particular message. They levitated toward the high school as Bubbles and Boomer followed.  
  
Bubbles didn't fail to notice how Boomer's sapphire eyes followed the sway of Blossom's hair the entire way.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
I really wish they would do something about it. Boomer is back to thinking he has a real chance with Blossom, and the longer he keeps thinking that, the worse it's going to be when he realizes that what he thought he saw that night the Butch and Buttercup got together was, in fact, a sign of things to come.  
  
Part of me feels like it's a competition between us, although I don't know why. I hate to flatter myself, but it seems like he's bent on showing that just because I am a fool in love, doesn't mean he is as well. Even if he looks like he hasn't been getting much sleep lately. So which of us is the fool?  
  
I think he feels that we are lumped into the same category, and he resents it.   
  
Brick and Blossom are both smart, and they are both competent leaders.  
  
Butch and Buttercup, oh, excuse me, that would be "Turk" now, are both rebellious and stubborn.  
  
But Boomer and I...  
  
I think we have about as much in common as my sisters and I do.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
"Turk?" Bubbles asked her sister as they washed dishes that night.  
  
Buttercup grinned at her around her gum, then blew a huge bubble before sucking it back in.  
  
"If that pops and gets into your hair, don't say I didn't warn you," Blossom's voice came from the table she was wiping with a damp cloth.  
  
"Nah, I'm pretty good," Buttercup said, winking at Bubbles. "The only thing that happens now is that sometimes I blow too hard and it flies out of my mouth..." she had moved to stand right behind Blossom as she said this.  
  
Blossom whirled around and put a hand behind her head. "Buttercup!"  
  
"Damn, Blossom, you are so damn conceited with that mane of yours," Buttercup retorted, then picked up the dish that Bubbles had placed in the dish rack. She wiped it as she scowled at her sister.  
  
"I will never, ever trust you two when it comes to my hair ever again," she said, one hand still behind her head and the other holding the cloth in front of her chest.  
  
"Man, you hold a grudge," Buttercup said, slapping her dishtowel at Blossom. "What were we then, five?"  
  
"You, less talking, more drying," Blossom said, pointing at the dish rack where Bubbles had already placed two more plates and several cups.  
  
"Why do I have to dry them anyway?" Buttercup complained. "Won't they drip dry if we just leave them in the rack?"  
  
"They have to be put away, too," Blossom reminded her. Buttercup grumbled, but returned to her task as her sister, carefully keeping her back toward the wall, moved to drape the damp cloth over the handle of the stove.  
  
"I'm going upstairs to do homework," she said.  
  
"A thrill a minute," Buttercup retorted. She made a sudden quick movement towards Blossom, who squealed and jumped back.  
  
"My hair is off limits," Blossom said, her eyes blazing.  
  
Bubbles pulled the drain out of the sink. "I'm done," she said to Buttercup. Blossom took advantage of her sister's momentary distraction to zip up the stairs in a streak of pink.  
  
"She's so...so...plastic!" Buttercup snapped, picking up a cup and drying it. "She bitches about my 'overzealous use of kohl' and how I'm getting caught up in this image thing, but she worships that hair of hers like nobody's business."  
  
"Turk?" Bubbles repeated her question from earlier.  
  
"What? Oh, that," Buttercup said with a shrug, her momentary impatience with Blossom forgotten. "You won't be very impressed."  
  
"So it's not from a movie or a song?"  
  
Buttercup laughed. "Maybe it is, but that's not where Butch got it from."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Sure you want to know? The mystery has gotta be more interesting than the truth."  
  
Bubbles shrugged.  
  
"Ha. Well, you asked. Butch didn't want to keep saying 'Buttercup' because apparently my name is too damn long for his mouth to keep up with it." She rolled her eyes dramatically. "But he didn't want to go with BC, because, and I quote, 'too boring and not very original.' So one day I was tickling him..." she paused there and gave a meaningful look at Bubbles, who blushed. "...and he kept telling me to stop...and he was practically hiccupping when he said my name..." she laughed. "So it came out like this...But-TERC-up..." she trailed off, then shrugged.  
  
"Oh," Bubbles nodded.  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"You're right," Bubbles said with a soft smile. "The fantasy was better." Her cheeks were flaming. She could picture Butch wriggling under Buttercup's fingers, his face flushed...  
  
"If I have to dry these, why am I using a TOWEL?" Buttercup said as she held up another cup. "It would be much faster this way..." and with that, she used her heat vision to evaporate the water that glistened on the drinking cup in her hand.  
  
In response, Bubbles merely pointed to the melted lump of plastic in her sister's hand.  
  
"Do me a favor," Buttercup sighed. "DON'T say anything to Blossom!"  
  
~~~~~~~~ 


	6. Something is Brewing

Chapter 6 - Something is Brewing  
  
Blossom never said anything to me about my little involvement in freeing those lab animals, and it's been over a week since I found out she knew.  
  
Brick has been...here's today's word-of-the-day...solicitous since then. I don't know what I missed that day I eavesdropped. Had they said anything prior to the whole Blue Ribbon Incident?  
  
His attitude towards Blossom isn't any different, so it's obvious I didn't miss anything good, at least concerning the two of them.  
  
Buttercup and Butch continue their morning ritual of wrestling until one of them hits that wall. Yes, THAT wall, where it all started. Brick still thinks the wall should get bronzed, and yesterday he threatened to suggest that to the Professor. That earned him a good punch in the arm from Buttercup.  
  
Boomer looks at me suspiciously every time his brother says a kind word to me or touches my shoulder or does any of them numerous things he's been doing since the afternoon of the Blue Ribbon Incident. His eyes will shoot from Butch to Brick to me, and sometimes to Blossom. Once in a while, if I'm not mistaken, he looks disgusted.  
  
He's been withdrawn, though, and it makes me uncomfortable, because for the first time since the Rowdyruffs came back, I can't easily detect what he's feeling. Any empathic abilities I might have thought I had were apparently a fluke. And here I thought I was so good at knowing what lurks under the surface, although, if I were to guess, I'd say despair. Which doesn't fit in with the way he seems to be projecting Bad Attitude all over the place. Even Brick has frowned at him a few times. Butch seems to notice nothing other than how Buttercup's clothes cling to her. That sounds worse than it is, because if you think the Professor would allow Buttercup to go out wearing something sleazy, you're an idiot. She does have a knack of dressing in a way that only hints at the bad girl beneath. Sounds like I'm contradicting myself, and I don't mean that she has this Good Girl Gone Bad look about her. I guess it's just that she wears clothes that are both clingy and concealing. (I know, I have to stop reading those stupid fashion magazines.)  
  
I asked her about it one morning when she came in my room to borrow my hairbrush. I don't think that's really why she was there, because her hair looked just fine to me. She wanted my opinion on something, I think, but she must have changed her mind, so I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, in an effort to break the awkward silence. Her look of pained embarrassment changed to one that was, well, coy. I would have said that Buttercup didn't DO coy, that was more a Blossom thing, but she rubbed her bottom lip with the handle of my brush and said "It's what you DON'T see" in this mysteriously seductive way. It should have been creepy, hearing my own sister talk in this James Bond girl kind of way, saying cryptic things like that, but I just nodded and held out my hand for the brush. She shook her head as if coming out of a trance and thrust it into my hands. Not three seconds later we heard Butch's "TURK!" vibrate through the house, and the next thing I knew, I was staring at a bunch of green sparkly things where Buttercup had been standing a moment before. And she hadn't used my brush at all.  
  
So Buttercup is a classy goth-but-not-goth rebel with a hidden sense of style. I followed her down the stairs, at a much slower pace, only to hear Blossom quietly berating Butch for making enough noise to wake the dead, and that included the Professor, who had been up late the night before working in his lab. Butch actually felt a little bit guilty about that, if I was reading him right. Since I've become unable to get a clear reading from Boomer, I find myself less confident in my abilities.  
  
All doubts about my empathy aside, I still stand by my statement that Brick and Blossom are in love, and it's not just me who thinks so. Otherwise, why would Boomer seem so miserable? I feel bad for him, but he's known this for a while now and continues to moon over Blossom. I want to shake him and get him to face the truth, but then I think about my own hopeless attachment to Butch, and I have to remind myself that love isn't always wrapped up in a nice pretty package with a bow on it, nor does it come with an instruction manual.  
  
That's assuming that he really is feeling, pardon the pun, blue. As I said, he's been hard to read lately. It's been like trying to listen for one conversation from across a crowded room.  
  
Despite the fact that Brick and Blossom drive me nuts with this constant dancing around each other, it's incredibly cute. Gives me a toothache, they are so gosh darn sweet around each other. Even when one of them gets mad at the other, they go back to being best of friends the next time they see each other. Their relationship, or their almost-relationship, is nothing like Butch's and Buttercup's. I think it suits them. Except for the part where they're too blind to realize that they have very real feelings for each other.  
  
At times I can't help but think of that Sims game that Buttercup and Butch used to play. Of course, the two of them ended up turning that into a warped competition, too. Who could get the highest earning job. Who could have the tackiest home furnishings. Who could go to longest ignoring their hygiene requirements...you get the picture.  
  
They really are perfect for each other.  
  
Which is why I was as surprised as anyone what happened during Christmas break.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: Phew! There we go. I am trying not to go too long between updates, and I will really try not to delay Chapter 7 too long. It's holiday week, but I did want to put something out before the hustle and bustle comes to a head. Or maybe it's just a tiny bit of escapism if you and your family are getting sucked into the frenzy. I apologize for the very short chapter, but I had to leave it there, of course. I think it was Arnold's grandfather in Hey Arnold! that said "Always leave 'em wanting more" when it comes to storytelling.  
  
Hairy Gregory - yes, Blossom does seem to overanalyze things - all things! I've also wondered why it was a foregone conclusion that identical personality traits were assigned to the corresponding "partners" - and I am hoping that I manage to avoid falling into that trap!  
  
Ud the Imp - regarding ice cream flavors, I thought that Bubbles might go for something a little more exotic sounding, don't ask me why!  
  
Autumn Leaves - glad you liked the teasing. Sometimes I think it's necessary to show character interaction in order to advance the plot, so scenes like that are fun. Plus the characters sometimes up and write the scenes themselves!  
  
yink and pellow - Would you be surprised to hear that Bubbles is not MY fave character, either? Regarding Octi - I wanted to show a bit of Bubbles' grasping at straws with the discarded bear that Butch gave to Buttercup. And thanks for pointing out the yin/yang aspects, and maybe some day I'll correct it. I do think it SOUNDS better this way, though (must be why songwriters take liberties with how words are pronounced)! Be prepared - there are many things I've forgotten and many episodes I've not seen, so if something seems contradictory, that's why, but you are certainly welcome to point them out, as they can only help me in the long run.  
  
Princess Amara of Conte - thank you so much! It's a high compliment when someone can see him or herself in a character you've written (even if I didn't create her). I've always found the teenaged years to be the ones fraught with change and possibilities, and of finding one's self (or trying like hell, at any rate). Thanks again. You made my day.  
  
Nie Starwhistler - "interesting" is good!  
  
Am I missing anyone? If so, my apologies. Thanks to everyone that's been following this story for your encouragement.  
  
~~~~~~~~ 


	7. Ulterior Motives

Chapter 7 - Ulterior Motives  
  
/At times I can't help but think of that Sims game that Buttercup and Butch used to play. Of course, the two of them ended up turning that into a warped competition, too. Who could get the highest earning job. Who could have the tackiest home furnishings. Who could go to longest ignoring their hygiene requirements...you get the picture.  
  
They really are perfect for each other./  
  
Which is why I was as surprised as anyone what happened during Christmas break.  
  
But I'm getting ahead of myself.  
  
I am still in shock. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I doubt I'd have believed it. I mean, just last week, Buttercup was trying to come up with a suitable nickname for Butch, but with no luck. Of course, everything she tossed his way was taken as a compliment, but it didn't help that she couldn't help using terms like "Stud" even if she was being completely sarcastic. He would just give her this look. It would start off as a smirk, then it would catch on fire. Once, literally. Blossom was SO not happy that his eyes set the curtains on fire. She didn't once believe their story that the toaster caught fire, but I wouldn't, either, considering the curtains were over the sink and the toaster was on the counter - not even along the same wall!  
  
OK, maybe it wasn't his smoldering look that ignited the curtains, but Buttercup's heat vision, but if you'd seen the look in his eyes, you'd have felt your entire body go warm, even if that gaze wasn't directed at you.  
  
Seems like I'm postponing the story about what happened. I know. It just seems to me...well, maybe if I write it down, it will make more sense.  
  
Boomer has been...weird, lately.   
  
It started out with the fact that he rarely came over with his brothers anymore. I might have been insulted if I weren't deep down relieved that I didn't have to watch him glare holes into Brick's head every time Blossom laughed at something he said. Did no one notice that he seemed to be mad at EVERYONE lately? I guess the anger MIGHT be better than his earlier withdrawn state, because at least there's some kind of emotion in there. I just wish...  
  
Well, he seemed to find a way to get over his infatuation for Blossom, all right. BOY, did he manage.  
  
He started dating someone else. And it was only by accident that I found out.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Buttercup squeezed Butch's bicep and fluttered her eyelashes at him. She puckered her lips and kissed the air several times. He continued smirking at her as she cooed.  
  
"It's not going to work, Turk," he said. "Because everyone knows that you have the major hots for me. I mean, I AM me, and you're just one of many...OW!"  
  
Buttercup frowned at him after hitting him on the side of the head. "Maybe I can cut down on that number if you have a black eye," she snorted.  
  
"You love me, don't ya, babe?" he said, reaching an arm behind her and pulling her close. "Show me how much."  
  
She tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help it. Blossom and Bubbles exchanged looks of resignation as their sister and Butch engaged in yet another lip lock. Blossom looked at her watch, then cleared her throat.  
  
"You have to come up for oxygen some time," she said dryly. Buttercup stuck out her tongue.  
  
"Don't do that unless you plan to- OW! DAMN it, Blossom!" He rubbed his ear where she'd singed the edge of it. "What is with you girls and your damn heat vision?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Blossom asked, her senses on alert.  
  
"Uuuhhhhh..." he looked at Buttercup helplessly. She looked infuriated.  
  
"Blossom!" Brick zoomed over to where they all hovered, taking in Blossom's stance, her arms crossed in front of her and a stern expression on her face. Bubbles decided this was a good time to float off to the side. Blossom flicked her eyes in Brick's direction, and hope appeared on Butch's face, only to die a quick death when she turned her gaze back to him. He looked toward his brother, pleading with him silently.  
  
Puzzled, Brick put a hand on Blossom's elbow. "Blossom, do you have the disc with our notes on it?" She ignored him and a frown developed on his face. "Butch, what's going on here?"  
  
"That's what I'd like to know," Blossom said, tapping her foot even though the ground was two feet below her.  
  
"Blossom is just bitchy," Buttercup snarled, crossing her own arms.  
  
"Butch," Blossom said, her teeth gritted. "What do you mean, 'you girls and your heat vision'?"  
  
"Oh, for crying out loud!" Buttercup exploded. "Fine! I set fire to the curtains. I melted your stupid cup. It was me, all me! Happy now?"  
  
"Buttercup," Blossom said evenly. "Do you know anything about the break-in at the lab when all the animals were set free?"  
  
"What? No! What are you talking about?"  
  
Bubbles inched away a bit more.  
  
"Nothing," Blossom said abruptly. "Just...making sure of something." She turned toward Brick. "I left it in my locker. I'll give it to you when we get to school."  
  
He nodded. "Sounds like a plan." He put a hand to the small of her back, and Bubbles groaned inaudibly from where she was practically cowering.  
  
"Buttercup?" Blossom added, almost as an afterthought.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"My cup?" Blossom frowned. "My cup that you said you had no idea where it was?"  
  
At this point, Bubbles decided it was a good time to get to school, seeing as Blossom seemed more concerned about the cup than about confronting her about the animals. Again. It was making her nervous, knowing that her sister knew this, but hadn't said anything yet.  
  
She decided to take a different route to school, flying low and taking the long route, which still would get her to school on time. It would just keep her from crossing paths with Blossom until later in the day.  
  
She was flying at a height of only ten feet above the ground when she saw a familiar blue jacket down below. In the secluded space between the main school building and the shed where the gym equipment was stored. He was facing the brick wall, and Bubbles zoomed in on the bit of yellow that was visible between him and the building. She first noticed that one of his hands was against the wall, as if it was the only thing propping him up.  
  
The other hand was up Princess Morbucks' skirt.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Princess Morbucks has red hair. Blossom has red hair. Princess Morbucks has grown her hair out. It used to be curly, but money can do wonders. She had it chemically straightened, because her hairstyle was remarkably similar to Blossom's.  
  
I don't suppose it was a coincidence that she dressed as a Powerpuff Girl for last year for Halloween. One guess which of us she was imitating.  
  
How long had this been going on? What the HELL was Boomer thinking?  
  
By the way, Princess looks horrible in red. Just thought I'd point that out.  
  
It was horrible, catching them like that. Even worse, I must have gasped, because Boomer looked up and his eyes looked straight into mine, and then he looked positively frightening. He gave me this look of...satisfaction? Then he moved his other hand from the wall to behind Princess' back, and pulled her to him, then turned his head away from me at the last minute to devour her mouth.  
  
I mean it. Devour, that is. He latched on and I swear, I thought he was eating her face. She seemed to enjoy it, too, and I stared at them in stunned horror until one of her legs crept up behind him. It was disgusting.  
  
I thought the image was going to be burned into my eyes forever, but fortunately I saw Butch when I got to my locker. The one I share with Buttercup. The one he was standing in front of while Buttercup hit him over the head repeatedly and told him that he was going to be very sorry come the weekend. I had an inkling of what activities were going to be curbed just from the unhappy expression on his face.  
  
"Bubbles? What's wrong?" he asked me. Yes, apparently the threat of being celibate for a weekend has given Butch the need for distraction, and I was right there, my mouth still hanging open.  
  
"I'm sorry?" I said, knowing full well what he was talking about but not wanting to say anything just yet.  
  
I was saved from coming up with an excuse when Buttercup slammed the door shut and stalked off. She actually walked, making sure she stomped her feet hard enough to leave slight impressions in the floor with every step. He didn't cast me so much as a second glance before he tore off after her, levitating in the air in front of her.  
  
I sighed and twirled the dial on the lock.  
  
What was I going to do about Boomer?  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
By lunchtime, Buttercup was sitting on Butch's lap, making him feed her. She winked at me and mouthed something not very nice, that begins with P and ends with whipped. She looked like the cat that swallowed several canaries.  
  
Canaries are yellow. Yellow. GOD! Princess!  
  
I don't think anyone noticed that I wasn't very hungry. Butch probably ate the lunch that I left on my plate. I didn't notice, because I felt rather queasy. Did everyone all of a sudden have their sex drive kicked into gear?  
  
It seemed only fitting that Blossom buzzed us on our pagers to alert us to an emergency. Since we had different classes now, the emergency phone line was in the principal's office. This meant that Blossom was called out of class to take the call directly, and she would alert our pagers as she zipped through the halls on her way to the office.  
  
Why is that fitting? Because Sedusa was at it again.  
  
Sedusa? Maybe Princess was taking pointers from her.  
  
Maybe Boomer was being a typically hormone-driven teenager.  
  
Maybe.  
  
Damn.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Now first I have to say that the part about it being Sedusa was just one of Blossom's hunches at the time (she said it was 'conjecture on her part' but was 'reasonably certain' and that the information she had left 'little room for doubt' that her theory was correct). We haven't seen Sedusa in a while, but she crops up now and then, just when you've forgotten about her. At least, I had forgotten her until I saw Princess molding herself to Boomer like a leech.  
  
Buttercup says that Sedusa is a 'one-trick pony' and she sneered when Blossom mentioned who we were after this time. I don't blame Blossom for making the assumption she made. Who else would manage to steal from three different places in a remarkably short period of time, just by 'slutting it up' as Buttercup so elegantly put it. Sedusa is good at getting men off guard. Then that hair comes out of whatever disguise she's been wearing, and all hell breaks loose.  
  
Blossom decided we didn't need reinforcements from the Boys, and Buttercup agreed wholeheartedly. Sometimes she doesn't want their help just because she really needs to beat the hell out of something, but in this case, I have to agree. I might not have really cared one way or another until I saw firsthand the way a woman can manipulate a man. Or a girl can manipulate a boy.  
  
When I said Princess was taking tips from Sedusa, I was being sarcastic. The joke was on me, I guess.  
  
It was Sedusa, all right, just as Blossom had assumed. And she wasn't alone. You guessed it. She had a partner. One who had red hair and freckles and looked like she was painted in yellow.  
  
Yellow is not a good color for Princess, I remember thinking, even though it really wasn't the best time to think of it.  
  
Princess has always hated us, but in particular, she and Blossom are practically mortal enemies. Oh, Boomer, is this how you deal with rejection? Should I mention Princess' entanglement with our friend? COULD I? As Blossom and Princess fought, and Buttercup pulled Sedusa's hair as hard as she could, I just floated there, off to the side, debating what I should do.  
  
I made up my mind just before Buttercup went flying past me, courtesy of Sedusa and not under her own power.  
  
I hoped like hell I was making the right decision. Boomer was my friend, even if he wasn't acting like it. I'd handle it my own way, on my own. If that didn't work, well...  
  
That was as far as I got before Buttercup zipped past me again, and I decided it was time to help her.  
  
I ignored the fight between Blossom and Princess, despite the fact that Princess' shrill voice was close to making my ears bleed, even as I entered the battle.  
  
I think I was on autopilot, because the next thing I knew, Sedusa was cursing us quite colorfully. If my thoughts weren't on something else, I might have cringed, thinking back to the first time we met Sedusa, back when she was cozying up to the Professor and acting like our mom. Devil with an angel's face, that was Sedusa back then. As opposed to Princess, who is the devil through and through. And I knew in my heart that she'd be out of jail as fast as she was in. I think her dad must have an account set up at the city jail. I still don't understand how she can keep getting released with a record that covers crimes in and out of Townsville. Then again, Mojo Jojo seems to have the same kind of luck. Except I don't have to worry about Boomer sticking his tongue down Mojo's throat. Ewww. I wish I could say that bothered me less than the image of Boomer with Princess.  
  
I barely remember the fight. I assume Sedusa and Princess had adjoining cells. I can only assume we won the fight. I'd like to think I'd have noticed if we hadn't.  
  
I had ice cream before going to bed that night. I knew I'd need it because, come hell or high water, I was going to confront Boomer the next day.  
  
Just before I fell asleep, I remember having a very bad feeling about this year's upcoming Halloween party.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Boomer nuzzled the side of Princess Morbucks' face as he approached her underneath the bleachers.  
  
"You're skipping class," he breathed into her ear. "You ARE a bad girl."  
  
She shivered slightly, then put her open palm against his face and pushing him away. "Get AWAY," she said, but she didn't look like she meant it.  
  
Boomer closed his eyes for a moment, squeezing them shut so tightly that when he opened them again, his vision was slightly blurred. When he did that, the girl in front of him could almost pass for someone else. Then his vision would clear, her freckles and her frown would come into focus, and any illusions were shattered.  
  
But it was as close as he could get, so he took it.  
  
He had felt Bubbles' gaze on him before he saw her overhead, and he'd been pissed at the idea that she might be stalking him. If he'd thought about it, she'd have no reason to, but that hadn't stopped him from putting on a show. One that Princess had readily gotten into it as well.  
  
He had actually been surprised that Princess had given him the time of day. He hadn't really been all that serious when he hit on her, using some cheesy pickup line that Butch used around Buttercup all the time, just to get a rise out of her. When her perpetual scowl turned into a look of downright glee, he supposed he should have flown away as fast as he could, but then he pictured Blossom's face when Brick touched her, and instead, he felt his lips curl up in a smirk. Next thing he knew, they were an item. He supposed so, anyway.  
  
There were fringe benefits to their partnership. He could temporarily lose himself in a haze of lust when he was with Princess. She was a bit rough, which turned him off at first, because it made him think of Buttercup. But then she'd touch him in places that he'd only touched himself before, and he would focus on that long red hair, and the feel of her hands, and his eyes would slide closed. It was enough. If his heart was floundering, his body certainly had no qualms about taking what Princess offered.  
  
Bubbles pissed him off, though. She looked at him with pity. Of all people to pity him, he'd be damned if he'd take it from her. She had no right to act like he was heartbroken, just because Butch had made it quite clear that he wasn't interested in her.  
  
Boomer sure as hell didn't need the blonde Powerpuff to cluck at him like a mother hen and pat him on the shoulder. He had Princess to make his misery go away. For a while at least.  
  
Besides, Blossom was still single, technically, and despite the fact that Bubbles clearly thought that her sister was in love with Brick, that didn't mean that Blossom really felt that way.  
  
He told himself that again as Princess slipped her hand beneath his waistband. With her head bowed as it was, he couldn't see her face. It was much easier, therefore, to picture large pink eyes instead of Princess' hard beady gaze. He bit his lip to prevent the wrong name from slipping out as Princess worked her magic.  
  
That would be a bad thing.  
  
~~~~~~~~~ 


	8. Winds of Change

Chapter 8 - The Winds of Change  
  
/...despite the fact that Bubbles clearly thought that her sister was in love with Brick, that didn't mean that Blossom really felt that way.  
  
He told himself that again as Princess slipped her hand beneath his waistband. With her head bowed as it was, he couldn't see her face. It was much easier, therefore, to picture large pink eyes instead of Princess' hard beady gaze. He bit his lip to prevent the wrong name from slipping out as Princess worked her magic.  
  
That would be a bad thing./  
  
Princess suddenly removed her hand, and Boomer might have felt a sense of loss if not for his burgeoning awareness that they were no longer alone.  
  
Shit. Busted. Brick would kill him if he got suspended for this. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed it would all go away. Maybe he was just dreaming. Maybe the school would get invaded by Him or something.  
  
He could hear Princess' tirade against the interloper.  
  
"...just because YOU can't find a man," here Princess sneered, "which is pretty sad considering the fact that you look like a two-bit floozy..."  
  
Floozy?  
  
His eyes snapped open.  
  
Bubbles.  
  
She was ignoring everything Princess was saying to her, her large powder blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on him. Now that his own eyes were open, she met his gaze without a trace of emotion.  
  
He really did not want to deal with her right now.  
  
Then again, Princess' voice was grating on his nerves, and with the loss of any physical rewards to go with it, he was getting a headache.  
  
Princess seemed angry at the lack of response she got from Bubbles, and eventually got tired of it. She smirked at Bubbles, then turned to Boomer.  
  
"I'll see YOU later," she said, her voice a mix between husky and shrill. It sent a chill down Boomer's back, but not a pleasant one. He managed to avoid shoving her away as she kissed him rather possessively. He did his best to match her overblown enthusiasm, and was relieved when she left him.  
  
Except that he had Bubbles to contend with now. Well, Brick had always told him that the best defense was a good offense.  
  
"I don't want to hear it!" he railed on her, his eyes blazing. "I don't care what you think, and even if I did, you have no right to tell me who I can associate with!"  
  
She blinked at him. Her silence made him angrier.  
  
"Well? Isn't that why you're here? To lecture me? What's the matter? The CAT got your tongue? Or was it left in the lab with your ribbon?"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I didn't know what to say to him. HE knew about the lab, too? Dear God, did anyone NOT know that I was involved in that?  
  
And he knew about the ribbon? The one that Blossom had?  
  
I thought I was going to pass out from shock, I really did. And it got worse. Boomer threw every insult he could think of at me. He ridiculed me for my 'pathetic' crush on Butch as often as he could, too, as if doing so made him feel better about himself.  
  
I didn't get to talk to him like I'd wanted to. He couldn't have hurt me more if he'd used his fists instead of words. It's not true, that little ditty about sticks and stones, because I felt naked and bleeding by the time he was done.  
  
He's right about one thing, though. I am pathetic.  
  
Because I still want to help him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Boomer had no desire to return to school after the altercation with Bubbles. He had a bad taste in his mouth. He hadn't meant to tear into her like he had, but once he got started, he couldn't stop.  
  
He could see her flinch at some of his words, but he'd felt a sick sort of satisfaction at the time. In his mind, he had overlain Princess' face onto Bubbles' halfway through the tirade. He didn't even want to think about what it meant that he'd felt all the more satisfied when he imagined Princess was the one he was hurling insults at.  
  
"What the hell is wrong with me?" he shouted, slamming his fist onto a nearby car and causing the entire framework to collapse.  
  
He flew straight up, until he Townsville looked like a dot below him, and then just hovered there, his head held in his hands.  
  
Something had to change. Maybe the change had to start with himself.  
  
Right after the Halloween party. Samhain was the end of the old year, and the beginning of the new, after all.  
  
All Hallow's Eve, when the dead were able to celebrate with the living.  
  
Ironically, it was because of Blossom that he knew this. It was only fitting.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
What Princess lacked in originality, she made up for in persistence. She was dressed as Blossom AGAIN this year.   
  
I had debated on not going to the Halloween party, but I'd never shunned a school function before. I really did enjoy seeing my schoolmates at these functions, not to mention I was almost always a member of all the committees, right alongside Blossom, who was just made to be a committee chairman. Chairman. Ha. Wouldn't Femme Fatale have a field day with that one. Femme Fatale. Wouldn't it just make my life complete if she were to show up? Just to provide the other extreme from Sedusa, of course. Life is all about balance.  
  
Or because, if we had continued listening to her, Princess would have gotten away with a lot more than feeling up Boomer.  
  
At first I thought Boomer hadn't shown up, because Princess was with a black-haired boy, DRESSED all in black, his face stark white with powder, his unsmiling lips black as well.  
  
Until said boy turned his head to the side.  
  
There is no missing eyes that size. The only bit of real color on his entire face.  
  
It was a bit of a shock to see him like that. His hair was still in Brick's cropped style, the color was Butch's, and his face was devoid of all expression. He didn't seem to notice at all when Princess touched him. They were casual touches, of course, as the Halloween party was a chaperoned school function, and they weren't off in some secluded corner, but he still didn't react to them.  
  
It could have been in keeping with his costume, whatever the heck it was that he was supposed to be.  
  
I didn't like it. Not one bit.  
  
I couldn't help myself. Butch once said about me that I had more heart than smarts. I guess he meant it as a compliment. He must be right, though, because I made my way to Boomer's side while Princess was engaged in a familiar quarrel with Blossom. Surprise, surprise. Princess is oh-so-careful not to grope her boyfriend in school, but she has no trouble unveiling jet thrusters on her back and various weapons of mass destruction in the middle of half the student body and a good portion of the faculty as well.  
  
Blossom was insulting her, if the expression on her face was any indication. Between her and Buttercup, and two of the three Rowdyruffs, I figured that I wasn't needed, and I was willing to bet Boomer had no intentions of participating in the fight. At least not on our side.  
  
I felt guilty for even considering that he'd side with Princess against us in a fight. Butch IS right about me.  
  
Boomer was leaning against a table near the window, and I took my place right next to him, resting my butt against the table without actually sitting on it.  
  
It was like I was near a completely different person. He hadn't looked up at me once, and now that I was on the fringes of his personal space, he didn't say a single word. Where was the hostile boy who hadn't hesitated to rip me to shreds earlier that week?  
  
We stood there for a while. I watched the fight that was still going on between Princess and Blossom. Buttercup had thrown her gauntlet as well, and her voice could be heard from where we were standing, although the words weren't clear.  
  
I couldn't take the silence anymore.  
  
"Boomer?" I asked timidly. I winced, anticipating his reaction. There was none.  
  
I left my position at the table to walk in front of him, turning to face him, but he kept his gaze fixed on the ground. I crouched down to look up into his eyes, and they were closed.  
  
"Boomer," I said softly, placing my right hand against his leg. As soon as the tips of my fingers made contact, his eyes fluttered open for a second before drifting shut again.  
  
I got a lump in my throat, and fled the room, flew out the window, into the sky, without so much as a goodbye to my sisters.  
  
His eyes were completely empty.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
I swallowed nervously as I cleared my throat at the entrance to the large room. The occupant turned from his telescope and scowled at me.  
  
"You."  
  
"Hi?" I said, not quite sure what I wanted to say now that I was there.  
  
"Where are your sisters? You are here alone, without them. Only you, and you by yourself, yourself being not with the others. There should be three of you, but there is only one..."  
  
He droned on and on, and I closed my eyes, chastising myself for even thinking of coming here. Eventually he stopped talking, and I opened my eyes again. He placed his index finger under his chin, his thumb resting against his cheek, and eyed me curiously.  
  
"I am intrigued," he said at last. "What do you want?"  
  
I flushed scarlet. I know I did, I could feel the my cheeks flood with warmth.  
  
"I will be the ONLY ruler of the world," he said. "No one else..."  
  
"NO!" I finally blurted out, fearful that if he went on another tangent I'd never get up the guts to say anything. "That's not why I'm here!"  
  
"Oh?" he said, grinning at me. He looked downright creepy, and my stomach flopped over. What the hell was I doing here? With the butterfly wings of my Halloween costume still attached to my shoulder blades, no less, and the flowers in my hair dropping over my forehead. I struggled with my doubts and ignored the fact that I must look ridiculous. Why hadn't I shed the costume before I'd shown up? As if it weren't bad enough that I thought this might POSSIBLY have been a good idea in the first place.  
  
"Moko Jono," I finally blurted out.  
  
Oooo, was that the wrong thing to say. He looked absolutely crestfallen. For about two and a half seconds. Then his face went livid with rage.  
  
"OUT!" he screamed at me. "Remove yourself from my premises! At once you will leave! I wish you to be gone from here and somewhere else!" He sounded like he was choking as his voice rose in volume.  
  
I flew out of there as he continued to tell me how very much he wanted me to leave.  
  
I guess, though, I got one answer to the question I couldn't ask.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
My sisters weren't home, and I took advantage of that fact. I had a feeling that it was going to take me a while, so I carried my supplies down to the Professor's lab, setting up my easel in a corner, and picked up my palette in one hand and paintbrush in the other. Then I lost myself in the tempest of emotions.  
  
I don't know how long I was working, but when I finally set my brush down, I stared at the result that stared at me from the canvas.  
  
Dark, swirling black and red: anger. Gray, misty shadows, tinged with blue: despair. Not a trace of hope in the form of yellow anywhere to be found. Was my omission of that color deliberate? I wondered if I'd ever think of yellow as being the color of sunshine and daffodils again. But that wasn't what bothered me about it.  
  
It was the pair of empty, unfocused, DEAD eyes, attached to nothing, staring at nothing, just seeming to float in the middle of the darkest clouds I'd painted.  
  
I was sick just looking at it.  
  
I couldn't do this anymore. What used to be a way of making myself feel better whenever I was depressed had turned into something distasteful. I should have been glad that I got it, whatever "it" was, out of my system, but I wasn't happy with the result.  
  
The Dark Portfolio was going to go, too, but first, this painting had to be burned.  
  
In the end, though, I just couldn't do it. I had taken it outside to send it up in flames by igniting it with my eyes, letting the smoke trail skyward. I don't know why I thought that would make me feel any better.  
  
But despite the fact that I couldn't bear to look at it anymore, neither could I bring myself to destroy it. I hurled it toward the stars as far as I could, though. Then I went home, pulled out the Dark Portfolio, and sent it flying right after it.  
  
Then I realized that it was light out. Had been for some time. In the light of the risen sun, I noticed that my stupid wings were drooping and streaked with paint.  
  
Those, I had no trouble incinerating.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Blossom knocked on the door tentatively. "Bubbles?" she asked softly.  
  
There was no answer from the lump on the bed, so she quietly floated over to her sister, who she now recalled had been conspicuously absent from the fight with Princess.  
  
"Bubbles?"  
  
Blossom watched the bed covers rise and fall, and briefly considered using X-ray vision to check on her sister. As she moved closer to the bed, she thought better of it, not wanting to intrude on Bubbles' privacy any more than she already was. She reached out a hand to stroke the blonde hairs that had escaped Bubbles' ponytail and were trailing over the fleece blanket.  
  
She'd noticed that Boomer had been missing the night before, too.  
  
She frowned. She had to talk to Brick.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
"She coming?" Brick asked as Blossom returned to the kitchen.  
  
"She's not feeling well," Blossom said. Brick's eyebrows furrowed in worry, and she patted him on the arm. "I think she'll be fine. She's probably exhausted from all the work she put into the party. You know how much she wants everyone to have a good time."  
  
Brick looked at her incredulously, then a brief smile ghosted his lips.  
  
"I guess a 'good time' is relative, huh?"  
  
Blossom's returning smile was equally weak. "Well, Buttercup seemed to enjoy herself."  
  
"I resent that!" her sister shouted from the doorway, where she and Butch levitated. A small smirk played on her face, evidence that she had very much enjoyed the fight with Princess, even if it hadn't ended in more than a simple slap on the wrists from the chaperones for their 'causing a scene.' Butch's arm was wrapped around her waist and the two of them were refraining from more obvious physical contact.  
  
"Good morning, girls!" the Professor's bright cheery voice greeted them. "Nice to see you, boys," he added, opening the refrigerator and removing an orange, a jar of pickle relish, and some cheese.  
  
Blossom sighed. It was a good thing the Professor was sleepwalking again, because if he'd noticed Bubbles was missing, he'd have been concerned. His latest project was taking a lot of his time, because it was the third time this week that he'd missed breakfast with them. Blossom didn't really count days like this when he was there in body only.  
  
"How can he DO that with his eyes wide open?" Buttercup muttered, as Blossom leaned over to kiss their father figure goodbye. Buttercup took her own turn at brushing her lips lightly over his cheek and then grabbed Butch's hand, dragging him out the front door and into the skies above.  
  
Blossom and Brick simply walked out the door like two normal teenagers.  
  
"OK, Blossom," he said as soon as they were outside blinking in the sunlight. "What is going on?"  
  
"Where was Boomer last night?"  
  
"Excuse me?" Blossom just looked at him expectantly. "Geez, Blossom, what the hell? If you have something to say, just say it!"  
  
"MEN!" she said, throwing up her hands in disgust. He grabbed her hands and pulled them down to waist level, staring at her large unblinking pink eyes.  
  
"Blossom," he said, working hard to keep his voice level. "What do you know about Boomer that I don't know?"  
  
She pulled her hands free and ran them through her bangs, careful to not mess her hair despite her frustration.  
  
"I don't know anything," she murmured. "But I'm worried. He was the only one who wasn't there last night."  
  
"Sure he was," Brick said, then stopped to think. Boomer had hinted earlier that month that he was going to the dance, and at the time, he'd looked almost pleased with himself. The day of the Halloween bash, though, Brick had been busy trying to finish copying his research notes for the humanities class he shared with Blossom. "Well, maybe he was. We were kind of busy," he offered lamely.  
  
"I know. Isn't it odd that he was nowhere to be found?"  
  
"Maybe he ditched early? Maybe he..." got lucky, Brick finished the thought, but bit down on it. He already had one brother having underage sex, he certainly didn't need to think about being the last virgin among them.  
  
"You're all alike," Blossom fumed.  
  
"We're adolescent boys," Brick countered. "You're asking us to go against the grain. We aren't made the same way as you girls are."  
  
"Snips and snails and puppy dog tails," she retorted. "Yeah, I'll say. Forget Chemical X, you have Chemical Y all over you."  
  
Brick sighed. "Don't worry, Blossom. We're not their parents. Boomer's fine."  
  
He wished he was half as confident as he sounded.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: I am thrilled at the responses this story has been earning. You've all been so very encouraging. I hope that the direction I take it in is pleasing to you as the story continues to unfold.  
  
Wolfbane2 - I'm doing my best to keep the updates coming without a prolonged wait. I know how eager I am for updates to stories I am following, and I certainly don't want to lose anyone's interest! ;-)  
  
Nie Starwhistler - thanks for the compliment! I appreciate any reviews you leave.  
  
Tiggabear - I am certainly working on keeping this going, because I have most of my notes for the major plot points. The suspense is something that will continue for a while, I'm sure. "Interesting" is one of the highest compliments you could pay me. Thank you!  
  
Hairy Gregory - Yes, the hair is the only resemblance Princess has to Blossom. The voice alone is a dead giveaway! LOL - sorry about the Mojo insertion, but I think it's clear how very much Bubbles found the idea of Boomer and Princess together distasteful if she'd even make that comparison. Thanks for your insightful interpretation of Boomer's attitude in Chapter 6. I loved it.   
  
Scarr C - thank you so very much for your encouraging words. I will indeed do my best to keep writing regularly, as I am just as eager to transform the ideas I have into actual story. I am humbled by your compliment. A gem? You do me a great honor.  
  
Ud the Imp - Ah, Shemp is fixated on the physical aspects of what's going on, I see. Hopefully all will be revealed in good time.  
  
Autumn Leaves - Boomer definitely has some issues that he's dealing with. As I said to Ud the Imp, all in good time!  
  
My thanks to everyone else who has read this story, and my apologies if I've forgotten anyone who has reviewed. Your comments are truly encouraging, and I hope that I continue to deliver!  
  
Have a Happy New Year, everyone! 


	9. More Than Meets the Eye

****

Chapter 9 - More Than Meets the Eye

"Buttercup!" Blossom shouted as her sister's soda spilled on the lunch table. All over her open notebook.

"This is lunch, Blossom," Buttercup defended herself. "Time for eating, not studying!"

"I have to get this done!" the redhead wailed.

Bubbles silently sopped it up with a few napkins. When it was obvious that Blossom wasn't looking, she froze the puddle of dripping soda with a blast of icy breath, not daring to risk evaporating it with her heat vision.

She swallowed convulsively as she realized she'd only made the situation worse. The soda was now stuck to the pages of Blossom's notebook. Before they would have been stained, but readable, but now there was no saving anything that was written on those pages.

Brick noticed her look of horror and winked at her, placing one hand on Blossom's shoulder.

"Blossom," he said, his voice low and soothing. "You can borrow my notes."

She turned to face him, not willing to give up the ball of anxiety she'd been nursing. "But..."

"Blossom," he repeated, his hand squeezing her shoulder gently before releasing it and handing her his notes with the other hand.

She opened her mouth to respond, but closed it as she felt the reassuring presence of Brick's notebook in her hand. Brick was still holding it and his eyes were looking straight into hers.

"Thank you," she said warmly, a slight blush gracing her cheeks.

"Why don't they just jump each other and get it over with?" Bubbles heard Buttercup mutter to herself. She whipped her head up and stared open-mouthed at her dark-haired sister. Buttercup merely smirked at her and got up with her lunch tray.

"I'm going out for a smoke," she announced.

"OK," Blossom said softly.

'See?' Buttercup mouthed to Bubbles, who was holding a hand over her mouth to conceal a smile.

~~~~~~~~~

Wow. Even Buttercup has noticed, which I'm almost sure means that Butch knows that Brick and Blossom have a thing for each other.

So the only one who refuses to accept it is...

I blink rapidly, realizing that my vision has blurred slightly.

"Are you OK?" I hear at my shoulder, and I jump. A firm hand steadies me.

"I'm fine," I reassure Brick, glancing at Blossom. She still looks a bit dreamy, and I don't want to pour cold water on her parade just because I feel like my lunch wants to come back up.

Brick's crimson eyes bore into me, searching my face for signs of deception. I hate myself for it, but I paste the most vacuous expression on my face, and beam at him.

It works every time.

"Good," he said, his voice near my ear, his breath tickling the lobe. I repress a shiver and smile wider.

When you have a reputation for being little more than fluff, it's easy to pull off the happy-sunshiny-all-is-right-in-the-world look. I'm a bit of an expert, because the expression has been part of my make-up since I can remember. I mean genuinely there. It's only been recently that I've found it harder to truly BE happy. But I think getting rid of the Dark Portfolio was a good first step.

I'd been using it as a crutch, letting the dark part of my nature, a part that I didn't know I had, out in my art. I never used to be like that. I'd bounce back, because I truly believed that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and I'd work as hard as I could to reach that light.

Instead of hiding behind my art, I needed to take more positive actions and make that positive future a reality.

Whatever that means.

~~~~~~~~~

We were doing homework at the coffee table, we being Blossom and myself. Buttercup was out with Butch, of course. I think the two are joined at the hip these days, but I've never seen Buttercup look so happy. Happy in that way that isn't sullied by the smugness of being more powerful than someone else, or of proving someone wrong. Just pure honest-to-gosh joyful. She'd kill for saying that, but it's true. It doesn't make her any less hard-as-nails, but she, well, she just damn near glows.

I smiled a bit to myself. I had to focus on those bright spots in life more often.

I turned the page in my notebook and was dismayed to see the back cover staring at me.

"Blossom? Can I borrow a piece of paper?"

"Hmm?" she asked, scribbling so fast on a piece of paper, I thought for sure the page would go up in flames. "Here," she said, showing that she had in fact heard me. She handed me a red notebook that was under the textbook she was currently reading.

I should have recognized it immediately, but it wasn't until I opened the notebook near the back to tear off a blank page that I realized the handwriting wasn't Blossom's open curly loops, but a cramped, slanted style.

"Suicide rates jump precipitously in the teen years for a number of reasons..." I read. It was followed by several bulleted items. I glanced at Blossom, who was still engrossed in her work. I skimmed it quickly, then turned the page.

* awakening of sexual feelings

* growing self-identity

* need for autonomy

I supposed that meant doing stuff on your own.

* dramatic changes in personal appearance

* withdrawal from friends and family

* self-destructive behavior

Was associating with Princess considered self-destructive?

My breath caught in my throat as I read about teen boys actually being more inclined to commit suicide over a failed relationship, because girls tended to have their friends as a support structure.

When had Brick compiled all this?

A quick glance at the pocket divider showed that Brick had received an A-minus in the paper he'd written on teen suicides. Now that I thought about it, I remember Blossom saying something about volunteering with the peer advisory group after she'd read that. Then the Mayor had called, and she decided that perhaps she might not be the most reliable member.

Blossom wants to fix the world. She tries so hard to make sure things work out for everyone. I just want everyone to be happy. Neither of us very realistic, but I think that I've come to accept that it won't always happen, where Blossom just tries all the harder.

Right now, though, I'd settle for making one person happy. Or, at least, happi_er_.

I was overreacting to the notes I'd read. Wasn't I?

~~~~~~~~~

Boomer's hair is still black. I'm not surprised. When we were in middle school, Butch thought it would be funny to spray us all with red Kool-Aid. My hair was pink for weeks on end after that.

He doesn't look like himself. It's not just the hair, either. He still comes by every now and then with his brothers, but it's not the same. It's like he's not there at all. Butch and Buttercup are so enthralled with each other, they'd be lucky to notice a falling meteor when they're together. I'm exaggerating, but it would take something life threatening like that to permeate that 'love fog' that surrounds them. Yet another observation Buttercup would kill me for making.

Brick and Blossom, on the other hand...for some reason, Blossom seems to spend a lot of time watching Boomer lately. And since she does, so does Brick.

Once again, I have the sense of just existing on the edge, but I firmly tamp down those negative feelings. A whole new leaf, remember?

I want to say or do something to draw Boomer out, but right now I need to watch him for all the warning signs that were in Brick's little essay.

He sits on the floor in front of the couch with his notebook open most of the time he's there. He usually writes in it so fast his fingers are a blur, but now and then he'll stop and just stare off into space, then his eyes will drop to the notebook and the whole process starts all over again.

It's weird, not seeing his eyes automatically seek Blossom.

Even weirder was the day that Blossom got up from the table and crouched next to Boomer, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Boomer," she said casually. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Hey! What about us?" Butch yelled from his position against the wall. Buttercup was sitting in front of him, her head leaning back against his chest, her eyes closed despite the bellowing coming from her boyfriend.

Brick shot him a dirty look, but Blossom didn't do anything other than wait expectantly. Boomer finally shook his head.

"Are you sure?"

He actually smiled at her. OK, it was just a tiny little twitch of his lips, but it was the first sign of expression I'd seen from him since I'd interrupted him and Princess. Part of me wanted to cry.

And sometimes it's OK to give in to your desires, so I promptly left the room, flew up to my bed, and bawled silently into my pillow.

~~~~~~~~~

A tall figure was bent over several beakers, a Bunsen burner heating up one of them. Smoke wafted from the bubbling liquid and swirled around his dark hair. He heard the sound of footsteps on the stair and smiled. That was the girls' subtle way of announcing their presence when he was in the middle of work. It hadn't been pretty the last time they'd suddenly appeared next to him without a sound.

"Dad?"

Ah, Bubbles. She was the only one who called him Dad. His heart warmed at the sound.

"One moment, Bubbles," he said, checking a color chart before turning down the flame on the burner.

"I'm all yours!" he said, grinning at her. Then he noticed her downcast expression. "Bubbles?"

~~~~~~~~~

I should have gone to him in the first place. Isn't it ironic that I went to _Mojo_ first? What was I even thinking?

I wasn't, of course. 

I guess I just didn't want to bother him. He's been so busy lately, and he's been half-asleep at the breakfast table most mornings.

I felt absolutely horrible when I saw how glad he was to see me. He misses us. If no one else had noticed, _I_ should have. He has always been there for us, has always wanted to protect us, and has been trying his hardest to _not_ be an overprotective father, like he was when he built that robo-suit.

Of course, the things that we need protection from now can't be warded off with simple gadgets.

I asked him what he thought about Miss Keene when they had dated. I asked him what he thought of Miss Bellum. I wanted to know what had attracted him to Sedusa when he thought she was still Ima Goodlady.

The weird part about the whole conversation? He didn't seem to think it was odd that I was asking him all these questions. He didn't push me for any information I didn't volunteer. Is there any more reason why I started calling him 'Dad' a few years ago?

~~~~~~~~~

Thanksgiving was uneventful. It was just the four of us. The Boys came over for dessert, and the Professor ruffled Boomer's hair and called him Butch at first, then squinted at his blue eyes and looking over at Butch, who froze in the middle of putting his arm around Buttercup's shoulders.

Buttercup went stark white as she saw the Professor's eyes move from Butch's hand to her shoulder to her face. Then he smiled, turned back to Boomer, and apologized for his error.

I don't think Boomer even noticed.

I watched him pick at his pumpkin pie before the table was cleared. The Professor asked if we minded if he went back to work on his latest project. Of course Blossom assured him that it was fine, and then he glanced at me and I nodded. He winked at me before going down to the lab. As soon as he was gone, everyone paired off. Meaning Brick and Blossom were playing chess, Butch and Buttercup were fighting over the video game remote, and Boomer and I...weren't doing much of anything. Unless you count my watching him intently as actually doing something.

He sat down in his usual place, in front of the couch, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Buttercup's foot nearly kicked him in the head as she lunged at Butch to steal the remote from him. He merely pulled out the notebook he seemed to be attached to and started writing.

I was so engrossed in watching his face for any signs of...something, that I didn't realize that Blossom had walked over.

"Boomer," she said cheerfully. "Come help me kick your brother's ass in Trivial Pursuit."

He blinked up at her, and she grasped the hand that wasn't holding a pen.

"Come on!" she insisted. "Remember, it's not whether you win or lose; it's preventing _Brick_ from winning that's important!" She glanced at me, but I shook my head. I was never any good at those games. Not when Blossom was playing. I could know the answer inside and out, front and back, but if it was something I didn't think others would expect me to know, it's like a little mental block would go up, preventing me from calling that bit of information from the recesses of my mind.

Maybe I'd just watch them. Boomer shuffled over to the table, pulling out a chair and plopping into it, as Brick bragged "you two are going DOWN!"

I noticed that Boomer had left his notebook lying there on the floor. I glanced up at the table again. Boomer was picking a card out of the stack, and showing it to Blossom. Her fingers brushed his as she removed it from his hand.

I eyed the notebook again. Forgive me, Boomer, I have to know.

X-ray vision is an interesting thing. You have to moderate how many layers you want to see through. I managed to look through the thick cover and focused on the first page, trying not to look like I was staring at it, which I was.

Boomer has exceptionally neat handwriting for a boy. Brick's handwriting is cramped and tiny, and Butch tends to scrawl, but Boomer's lettering is very precise. He writes in all block letters, and if not for his super speed, he'd never get anything out on paper.

Before I got too absorbed in trying to read what Boomer had written, I risked another glance in his direction.

Funny thing, really.

I was seated on the floor, so my line of sight was about waist level as they were all sitting in chairs at the table.

I also forgot I'd just been using my X-ray vision.

If it wasn't bad enough that I realized that I was seeing through the first layer of clothes, it was worse when I discovered that there was no second layer underneath them.

What would you do in this situation?

I flicked my eyes in his brother's direction. Apparently it wasn't a family trait, because I could clearly see Brick's...um, yeah. Maybe it's a good thing Blossom and he aren't officially a couple yet, because I think that's the only thing that might have made me feel even worse. Except that, for a moment, I couldn't help wonder how Butch would measure up, whether he was like Brick and wore underwear or... Apparently guys aren't the only ones who are a bit voyeuristic at this age. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to not look through my eyelids.

"Are you OK, Bubbles?" Blossom asked me. She sounded awfully close to me. I cracked open my eyelids and saw her crouched next to me, just like she had with Boomer earlier.

"What?" I remember blinking at her, and I must have looked like I was in a complete daze. Oh, sure, Blossom, I just hope you don't mind that I am now more intimately acquainted with Brick that you are, but it doesn't count, because I was only looking.

Boomer turned to look at me then, too, and I wondered briefly at how many shades of red I could go through before I combusted. He slid off the chair, floated over to me, reached down and picked up his notebook, and returned to his chair, setting the book on the seat before sitting down again.

Which meant the only way I could read it now was if I...no. No, I was not even going to try it with the book in its current location. Could my cheeks possibly get any hotter?

Blossom must have decided that I wasn't going to keel over, because as soon as Boomer returned to the table, her attention was back on the game. I think she warned them not to read the cards ahead of time, but all I really noticed was the sense of relief I had when she rejoined the boys. I dropped my head onto my knees and wondered how long it would be before I got rid of the image that was now burned into my brain.

"_Are_ you OK?" Buttercup asked. I hadn't even noticed her leave Butch's lap. It was going to get me into trouble one of these days, my lack of awareness of my surroundings. Let's just hope it's not during a save-the-day type of situation.

"Yeah," I said, but could feel my head shaking no. My body was obviously staging a protest. Traitor.

Buttercup put one of my arms around her shoulder and pulled me up with her, and then she floated us into the kitchen, where she poured me a glass of water.

"See this?" she said, handing me the glass. "No plastic cup. I think it has a higher melting point, don't you?"

I smiled weakly, silently thanking her for not pressing the issue. "Might want to check with Blossom on that one."

She chuckled. "And you might want to tell me what's bugging you." Shoulda known she'd get right down to brass tacks. I take back that little thank you I'd mentally extended not five seconds ago.

"I might," I agreed, taking a sip of water. "But I can't."

"Can't, or won't?"

I tried to glare at her. She has the art down pat, because you could be sweltering in desert heat and one dark glance from Buttercup could freeze you cold. The best I could come up with was a pitiful look of 'don't bother me' that probably had a 'please' attached to it. I think we've already covered how pathetic I was. That description fits all occasions, just like a pair of basic black pumps. Oh, was I supposed to stop reading those fashion magazines? Stop thinking about clothes, Bubbles. And, in the case of some, the lack thereof, I chastised myself.

"I know you were just checking out Boomer's ass," she said, slapping me on the back. I choked on the water I was sipping. It didn't help that I'd actually forgotten she was there while I was engaged in my little mental conversation with myself.

"No one could hold a candle to Butch's," I blurted out, then felt my face flame once again. Between the furnace going on in my cheeks and my getting caught by surprise all the time, I was losing any sense of self-confidence I might have had.

"Hey, hands off the merchandise," she warned, but the laughing tone in her voice told me she didn't take me seriously. I was immensely grateful that she didn't take that the wrong way. It's tough being sisters with someone who hangs around with the guys all the time, because she talks just like she's one of them. Meaning she's crude quite often, and her comments are full of innuendo more often than not, especially since she and Butch have, well, you know.

Which again, makes what happened at Christmas all the more surprising, but I'm working my way up to that one.

~~~~~~~~~

Author's Notes:

No, Buttercup doesn't smoke. That was her way of showing Bubbles that Blossom was so preoccupied, she didn't notice what Buttercup had said.

Thank you, everyone, for your kind reviews and encouragement to continue. I'm sorry I didn't get this one out as quickly as the others. Hope it was worth the wait.


	10. Confrontations

****

Chapter 10 - Confrontations

Boomer felt like the room was getting somewhat warmer, and at first he thought it was just being in Blossom's presence, until he heard a strangled gasp come from the direction of the couch.

He turned to see Bubbles staring at something. It looked like she was looking under the table, but he couldn't figure out what was so interesting under there. He returned his attention to the card in his hand, vaguely realizing he was looking at the wrong side, but Blossom had noticed his momentary distraction from the game. How nice to know he was living in a petri dish.

Blossom slid out of her seat and quietly made her way over toward the couch. He assumed she was worried about Bubbles. He turned again to watch the two sisters, only faintly curious.

He heard Blossom murmur something, and Bubbles' face looked redder than Princ- redder than _Blossom's_ hair.

His eyes gazed downward, and he noticed that he'd left his journal lying there. Some part of his mind said that it was a bad idea to leave it lying there, and he went to get it. He felt a little better when he felt the wire spirals press into the underside of his leg as he sat on the notebook.

~~~~~

I'm pathetic. Completely, utterly, pathetic.

I'd spent so much time admiring Boomer's handwriting, and acknowledging that yes, it certainly was his, that I didn't once _read_ the words that were sitting there on the page!

Not only that, because of my attempt to infringe on his privacy, I got an eyeful that I'd rather not have.

Although I'm not exactly complaining about that.

But still! I felt like it was written all over my face! "Bubbles is a Peeping Tom, Bubbles is a Peeping Tom!"

If I was feeling this flushed just SEEING more of Brick and Boomer than I did on a daily basis, how must Buttercup feel to see Butch like that, but with permission to do that and more?

The end of the evening couldn't happen too soon for me, and I think the long weekend was just what I needed to get over my acute embarrassment.

How was I going to face them at school on Monday, though?

~~~~~

Boomer hunched over, shoving his hands in the pocket of the black trench coat he'd taken to wearing, and walking outside into the crisp air. When he joined the group of goths outside sneaking a few cigarettes, he breathed a bit easier.

His hair was lightening to a gray color as the black slowly washed out. His blond roots were showing, and it gave his hair a rather interesting appearance.

He liked mingling with this particular goth group, because they were so busy trying to shove their scorn down everyone else's faces, people tended to avoid them. He had to put up with the second hand smoke, but he supposed that was a small price to pay. Going home with the stale smell on his clothes wasn't a problem. He could easily fly around long enough to air out all the clothes, and the trenchcoat got the brunt of the smoke. That didn't make it in the house.

Blossom had started to act differently towards him, and he found himself reacting to her attention in a way that, a couple of months ago, he'd never have imagined.

He felt unworthy somehow, as if his dalliance with Princess had made him unclean. He'd been avoiding the bitch ever since the Halloween party. How could he have let her touch him, grope him, get him all hot and bothered the way she did?

She was a real tease, too. He'd come very close to the point of giving in to her demanding hands, her pulling, pawing hands. His sexual experience was limited to self stimulation, and it had been exciting to have someone else do all the work.

Except she delighted in leaving him aching and panting for more.

Maybe it was a good thing she'd never managed, or bothered, or wanted, to get him to climax. If being felt up was making him feel this dirty, how would he feel if she'd given him just that little bit more attention?

Then again, maybe if she had gotten him off, he'd not have cared anymore.

He wasn't sure who he felt worse about disappointing. Blossom, who he'd lusted after for years, and who was just starting to notice him as more than a bookend...or Bubbles, whose stricken face when she'd caught him with Princess popped into his consciousness more than he'd like to admit.

Brick doted on her. He hadn't realized it at first, wanting to take his brother apart, limb from limb, as he managed to get all Blossom's attention.

He blew the bangs out of his face. They were getting a bit too long.

Maybe he had his sights set too high. Blossom would never give all her attention to anyone, not even Brick. She cared too much. It was one of the things he loved about her. She was smart, and caring, and could process a million things at once. And she was so damned sexy, her fiery red hair an obvious sign of the passion he just knew lurked beneath the surface.

Buttercup had her own brand of passion and a zest for fun, and he hated to admit it, but she and Butch made a damn near perfect couple.

Seeing Bubbles' eyes get all quivery when she'd look at Butch had disgusted him. She should have seen that she had no chance, should have known that Butch didn't look at her "that way."

To be fair, he expected more from her. She seemed to be in tune with everyone's feelings, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out how she could even entertain the idea of pining after Butch.

Then again, he was a fair one to talk. He was the one who'd put his tongue down Princess' throat.

The memory made him want to puke.

~~~~~

I love Christmas time. Even Buttercup has not gotten too into her role as Teen Rebel that she doesn't come alive this time of year.

I'd managed to avoid looking guilty whenever I looked at either Brick or Boomer. I finally realized that the only thing giving me away was me, and once I accepted that there was nothing I could do to change it, it was almost as if it had never happened. Almost.

We were decorating the gymnasium for the winter dance when she came in from outside. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were so full of emotion, I knew the rosy color to her face had little, or anything, to do with the chill in the air.

Blossom had managed to convince Boomer to go with her, so Brick gallantly invited me as well. Butch and Buttercup were too busy telling us all how much they thought it was lame, but we all knew they'd be there anyway. I was sure that they'd be involved in some sort of mischief, but nothing dangerous or hurtful. Neither of them wanted to sully the joy of the season by doing something stupid.

But Buttercup managed to do just that.

~~~~~

Brick looked incredible in his velvet suit of a color I knew as hollyhock from my art classes. It was a deep purplish red, and I would not have expected it to work with his coloring, but he really is a striking looking young man.

For some reason Brick is the only one I really see as a man. Boomer and Butch are still more boys than adults, even though we're, at best estimates, sixteen.

Being created as we were, none of us were ever infants. We never really went through puberty in its entirety. One day I woke up and I had a full bosom, almost overnight. The fingers came near the end of those physical changes. Apparently we were, surprisingly, capable of reproducing. That's when Blossom got incredibly maternal, lecturing us on safe sex and warning us that no one knew what could happen if we were to mix our Chemical X enhanced DNA with something else.

And don't get me started on the Safe Sex and You video she made us watch. It was narrated just like those old cartoons, and the information was so dated, I thought she was kidding.

Oh, no, not my sister. She takes the whole issue of teenaged sexuality to a new limit.

I honestly think I could discuss having unprotected sex with the Professor with less embarrassment than just listening to Blossom lecture us on it.

Fortunately that was one topic she didn't dwell on. Apparently she wasn't exactly comfortable with it, either.

I hadn't given much thought to the anatomy of the Rowdyruffs until I'd seen Princess' hand trying to shove down the front of Boomer's pants.

Ever since I'd gotten a glimpse of what she was grabbing, I couldn't get it out of my mind.

Just like us, their anatomy, on the outside, at least, looked just like a normal human boy.

I suppose I knew that, because I wasn't sure how else the act would be done when Buttercup confessed that she and Butch had been intimate, but I hadn't really THOUGHT about it, because I was still trying to convince myself I was happy that she and Butch and gotten together.

Does sex bring two people closer? I think it does, if the people care about each other in the first place.

Sex didn't seem to do much for Boomer and Princess. I don't know how far the two of them got with each other, so maybe I'm wrong.

Then again, Princess could take almost anything and turn it black and miserable.

Which is exactly what she did at the dance.

~~~~~

Buttercup looked absolutely beautiful. I was surprised to see her in a deep green satin, but she grinned and said "'Tis the season," which I guess explained Blossom's carnelian dress.

Of course Buttercup was wearing a pantsuit, but it fit her like a glove.

I was wearing white. Yeah, tell me about it. And Boomer was wearing black. What a surprise.

Things seemed to be going well, though, and Blossom had actually managed to convince Boomer to dance with her at one point.

Then all hell broke loose.

Princess has never been a good loser, and I've said on more than one occasion, she seems to hate Blossom more than any of us. She saw Blossom dancing with what she thought of as her property, and her screeching voice put the sound system in the gym to shame.

"BOOMER!!! What the HELL do you think you're doing with her?"

And with that, she pried them apart, even though they were maintaining a respectable distance between them, and then she slapped him across the face. Hard.

He stared at her for a moment, and then a glimmer of emotion crossed his face. It wasn't anger. It was disdain.

Thought she was mad before? Oh, she was just getting warmed up.

She called Blossom every derogatory term in the book, all of which implied my sister was the type to spread her legs for every man, and possibly a few women, just because she'd dared touch HER property.

Buttercup had flown to Blossom's side in an instant, and suddenly her face went from angry and annoyed to something almost frightening.

She fixed those large green eyes on Butch, who was standing next to Boomer and looking as though he wanted to say something but unsure what. Brick was standing behind me with his arms half around me and his hands under my elbows. I was leaning back against his chest for warmth, although it wasn't my body that was cold.

Suddenly Buttercup looked from Princess, who was still making a scene, to Boomer, and then to Butch, and she looked absolutely horrified. For a split second I thought she was going to cry.

Then she pulled something off her finger and threw it at Butch, then flew out the window.

Did I mention that the windows were closed, considering it was winter?

That even got Princess' attention, and she sneered at Blossom, then swept her eyes over me, pointedly staring at my chest before crossing her arms over her own.

"I see that Chemical X must have some kind of whore component to it-"

The sound of a loud crack made all other noises screech to a halt.

Blossom had just slapped Princess across the face.

Brick gave me a gentle squeeze, and I knew what he wanted and nodded. He took his place next to Blossom and the two of them made a united front against Princess.

Soon the students were abuzz once again, but it was obvious that Princess was not exactly earning popularity points.

She may hate Blossom, but she is the only one I know who does, at least who does so openly.

The student body, as a whole, suddenly turned on her in that instant. Her face still had the imprint of Blossom's hand on it, red and angry, and yet everyone was mad at HER.

Blossom doesn't react to her passionate side very often, not in a physical sense. She turned and buried her face against Brick's chest, and his arms came up and wrapped around her, and she started crying.

The rest of the student body crowded around Princess, who looked like she'd suddenly been thrown out of an airplane, and that was the last I saw of her, because my attention went from Brick comforting Blossom to Boomer and Butch.

Boomer reached over and took the item that Buttercup had thrown at Butch. I thought he might need to pry it out of his hands, but Butch's grasp had gone lax as soon as Boomer reached for it.

I didn't need any super vision to know it was Butch's school ring.

He'd given it to her the week before.


	11. Past, Present, and Future

****

Chapter 11 - Past, Present, and Future

Life has a funny way of throwing temptation at you.

Buttercup refused to talk to me, and she refused to talk to Blossom.

But Butch suddenly decided that I was the key to getting through to my sister.

I spent countless evenings holding Butch's hand, figuratively speaking, as he alternated between hurt, and betrayal, and utter confusion.

Butch is completely adorable when he's confused, and I hated that I spared a moment to notice that while he was so obviously brokenhearted.

At least it was obvious to _me_. Boomer answered the door the first time I showed up on their doorstep, and looked at me rather oddly as Butch rushed over to greet me, the blur of green sending static charges through the entire house and causing my hair to stick up like I'd suffered an enormous shock. Heh. No pun intended.

Actually, in a way, I had. Butch, who really hadn't spared me a second thought over the past few years, suddenly _wanted_ to be with me.

I'd like to say I was all noble about it, but I often found myself leaning toward him every time his gaze lowered to his hands, which would be clasped in his lap. He'd sit on the edge of his bed, and I'd sit on an overturned milk crate, and we wouldn't say anything for hours. Now and then he'd tell me a story, usually about something Buttercup said, or something the two of them did together.

Once he told me how he'd found out about our embarrassing attempt to be _supercool_ superheroes, when I'd insisted Harmony Bunny was waaaay more impressive than plain ol' Bubbles, and Liberty Bell, née Blossom, jumped in her freedom car while I hopped along on my pogo stick. Buttercup had to wait until sundown to join us, so she was no faster, in the end, either.

I only bring up that particularly humiliating time in our lives because apparently Butch was very eager to see 'Turk' dress up as Mange, just for him. Or at least he had been, until my sister decided to go postal. Butch's words, not mine.

Since I was making the daily trek to the Rowdyruff's home, Blossom decided to accompany me, as she and Brick were working on yet another project together. She really did think about it long and hard, not wanting to leave Buttercup alone, but since our sister refused to speak to either of us, Blossom decided that at least the Professor was there to keep a proverbial eye on her.

So that accounts for five of us, right? One brooding, two working together, and one of us lending a sympathetic ear to the heartbroken one.

As for Boomer...

To be quite honest, he was the furthest thing from my mind.

~~~~~

The doorbell rang exactly two-and-a-half minutes after they'd gotten home from school. Boomer rolled his eyes as he used his X-ray vision to see that Bubbles was on the other side of the door. Blossom was with her, as she usually was. Why was he the one who seemed stuck serving as the doorman lately? What the hell was wrong with Brick's arms and legs? He was the one Blossom came to see, after all.

He wasn't sure how he felt about Butch's sudden neediness. Bubbles was a constant presence in their home as of late, and all Butch had done was go on and on and ON about Buttercup. At least he'd had love before he lost it. And Brick didn't know a good thing when it was right under his nose. Dumb ass.

He snorted to himself. He was beginning to sound like Bubbles, although he hoped to high heaven he never got that bad.

He didn't know what the hell Bubbles was thinking, letting Butch use her as his crying towel. Of the three of them, he'd have thought that Butch would be the least likely to fall apart from a broken heart.

It was also interfering with his own bout of self-pity. It would be nice if they could take turns wallowing in misery, and damn it, he hadn't finished wading in his yet!

He should have been dancing a jig at the idea of Blossom showing up at his house. She seemed to spend a lot more time there than she ever had before, and she made it a point to talk to him, and find excuses to touch him.

That was just it. She was finding excuses to touch him, but with Brick, it was completely natural the way her hand would reach up and remove a stray hair - usually one of hers, since Brick's was so damn short - off his collar. She was a very tactile person around Brick and her sisters, but she'd never been that way with him or with Butch.

It wasn't that any contact from Blossom felt awkward, or forced, so much, but they just couldn't compare with the way she touched his brother.

Of course, it still made him feel a lot better about himself. The fact that she was willing to touch him made him feel less sullied after his involvement with Princess.

He grabbed his journal out of his backpack and flew out of the house, not stopping until he'd gone past the clouds covering the view of Townsville.

He hovered there with his arms crossed, scowling down at the city below, and realized the expression felt unfamiliar on his face. He touched a hand to his lips. Sure enough, they were pursed in an expression of discontent.

What do you know about that. His facial muscles still worked.

He opened up his journal and began to write, his hand a blur as the words made their way across the page.

About an hour later, he noticed something falling toward Townsville, and his curiosity got the better of him. He flew toward it, and caught it in one of his hands. He studied it for a few minutes, then his eyes widened as he realized what it was. Or more specifically, where it had come from.

~~~~~

I recognized the signs that Buttercup was ready to talk about it. She would sometimes cast a fleeting glance my way before she'd leave the room. If I made eye contact, she'd look away quickly, so it took a few tries for it to sink in.

Good golly, but I was slipping. I'd been so wrapped up in my concern for Butch, I hadn't picked up on the way Buttercup had been trying to get me to confront her.

I was immensely grateful for Blossom, because she had been the one talking to Boomer during our visits to the 'Ruff's abode. I didn't think I could juggle his issues on top of Butch's.

I felt a stab of guilt at the thought. Hadn't I been worried about his possibly suicidal tendencies? I'd gone so far as to try to sneak a peek into his journal, for crying out loud.

Which brought a blush to my face as I remembered the outcome of that attempt. Thank the heavens Butch hadn't been part of the eyeful I'd gotten. It was difficult enough tamping down my feelings for him every day without the image of what he did or didn't wear beneath his trousers clamoring for attention as well.

It was time to confront Buttercup.

I tapped on the door to her room, and she didn't answer, but I knew she wouldn't. However, the unspoken invitation had been given, so I opened the door and walked in.

It was pitch black in there, and at first, seeing just the glowing green eyes, I had this ridiculous image of her sitting there, dressed just like Mange. I could still hear Butch's dreamy voice, talking about how 'damn hot' Buttercup would look tricked out in black shadows.

She didn't order me to leave, so I quietly drifted over to her bedside and just hovered there, waiting.

My eyes adjusted to the gloom. She'd been lying on her side, but she sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. I sat on the side of the bed, with one leg curled under me and the other dangling off the edge of the mattress.

I thought I'd have to say something to get her to start talking, but apparently the fact that I hadn't come to see her for the past couple of days had her more than eager to start without any prompting.

"Boomer was involved with Princess," she said.

I blinked at her. Yeah, that had been made pretty obvious by the red-haired shrew, but I wasn't sure what that had to do with her breaking up with Butch.

"How could he do such a thing?" she whispered. "Couldn't he see that she is pure evil?"

Perhaps it was a slight exaggeration, but point taken. I waited for the connection between this and the real issue.

"It was like he was so blinded by the attention she gave him, that he was ignorant of all her other faults. He let her take advantage of him, let her lead him around by the nose, hell, by his dick, keeping him distracted so she could cause trouble and yet have an ally on her side."

That didn't sound like Boomer at all! Not once had he sided with her against us, not in a fight like she was thinking of. Sure, he'd not been involved in that altercation, but neither had I, really. And come to think of it, we'd heard little from Princess until that whole Sedusa thing.

I started to suspect she really wasn't talking about Boomer and Princess at all.

"Stupid, so stupid," she said, sniffling slightly. "Think I'd have learned by now."

"Buttercup," I finally said, losing my patience. Oooh, that was not like me. Obviously spending all that time with Butch was having more of an impact than I'd thought.

"They used to be our enemies!" she shouted, pounding a fist into the mattress so hard I bounced right off. I levitated above the floor and crossed my arms.

"That was a long time ago," I told her. "And...and they're not like that anymore."

"You're only saying that because you're in the same boat, helplessly in love and unable to see past a cute face and tight rear end."

I almost swallowed my tongue.

"Excuse me?" I didn't think she knew! Oh, my, how had she figured it out?

"Well, I told you I saw you checking out Boomer's assets that day. Why aren't you more upset?"

"There's nothing between me and Boomer," I said, relieved that she hadn't figured out that I'd seen a bit more courtesy of my X-ray vision.

"I know," she sighed. "It's just that misery loves company, and Blossom is too stupid to realize how she feels. If I really thought you were in love with someone who could possibly find Princess attractive, I'd be worried about you."

Now she was just being ridiculous. Hell, she'd been ridiculous this whole time. I mulled over all she'd told me, and it sounded vaguely familiar, but it was like watching a soap opera, where the characters were the same, but different actors were playing them.

Yes, I admit it. I watch soap operas. Just one, though, and that's only because it used to be on before Mechanimals! At that time just before most school kids came home to their mothers, where television catered to the housebound caregivers until the short-attention-spanned children wandered in and wanted to plop down with their afternoon snack and mindless entertainment...

"Bubbles?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you even listening to me?"

Then it clicked. I don't know why. I mean, there was little about the antics of animal mechanoids or the sinful lives of soap characters that should have been the trigger, but maybe I'd just needed to stop trying to think about it so hard. All the things she said fell into place with an almost audible sound, like Legos snapping together.

I turned my full attention to her again and smiled. "Yes," I said, grabbing her hand and pulling her off the bed. "And I'm listening to what you're NOT saying, too. And it's well past time for you to face up to how ridiculous you're being."

I flew out the window, with Buttercup in tow, and sped to the place the 'Ruffs called home. She knew I was right, because she didn't fight me.

Boomer had the door open almost before we even got there, but I didn't think twice about it. He'd obviously seen us coming. I knew he often spent time on the roof, although that had been when he was much younger and the two of us were as close to best friends as you can get with the opposite gender at that age.

His hair was getting longer, I noticed, but my attention was on the duo of Blossom and Brick on the couch. They were both sitting half facing each other, half facing the rest of the room. They were passing a paperback book back and forth, pointing at various passages before relinquishing the book. Most likely they were discussing some skit they had to do in their drama class or debating the symbolism of a scene for their literature class. It didn't really matter. The point was, they were both there, because I was going to talk to them, next. On second thought, maybe I'd handle those two first, just to set the mood.

"Where's Bu-" I began, but Boomer, who was floating a few feet away with his arms crossed, tilted his head toward the doorway. Butch was hovering there, looking at Buttercup with a mix of fear and hope in his eyes.

I guided Buttercup into a chair, and Boomer seemed to know what I had planned, because he walked over and shoved his brother into the room roughly until he was standing between the couch and the chair Buttercup was sitting in.

"I've had it with all of you," I began, my voice strong. "YOU," I pointed at Blossom, "and YOU," this time at Brick. "Have been dancing around each other so long it's sickening. You love each other, and it's obvious to everyone. Am I right?" I addressed Buttercup, who nodded mutely.

"See? Even BUTTERCUP has noticed!" I was warming to my subject. "Stop making it so damn complicated! You two are too analytical for your own good! So get your heads out of your proverbial asses," at that, Blossom's mouth dropped open, "and stop driving each other nuts!

"And YOU," I whirled to face Buttercup, who had to be expecting her turn. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the arms of the chair. "Need to stop judging Butch based on your past experiences. Yes, Boomer made a mistake," I shot an apologetic look his way. He shrugged. "But not once did he ever allow us to suffer in a battle because of his lack of good judgement."

My eyes were right back on Buttercup, who seemed to be holding her breath.

"Buttercup," I said, my voice a bit softer. "Butch is not Ace."

She exhaled in a rush of breath, and her head bowed forward. I thought I caught a glimmer of moisture in the corners of her eyes before her bangs hid them from view.

I glanced at Butch to see his reaction.

He looked confused more than anything.

"Someone want to tell me what the hell that means?"

Blossom gave Brick a warm glance, then got up from the couch. "Ace is the leader of the Gang Green Gang, as you know," she said. Butch nodded once, not looking at all pleased.

"Well, once upon a time, Buttercup here had a massive crush on him, and-"

"And he used his 'relationship' with her to create trouble, and make it easy for his gang to wreak havoc, am I right?" Butch interrupted, his brows meeting in the middle of his forehead. I was starting to get a bad feeling about this.

"Yes," Blossom said. Buttercup would not even meet his eyes, although he was staring at her.

He crouched next to her and put a finger under her chin, lifting her head until she met his gaze.

"And you were afraid you'd made the same mistake," he said softly. She gave a minute nod, and, despite my tendency toward honesty, I had a gnawing suspicion that was the worst thing that she could have done.

He brushed her bangs away from her face and cupped her cheek.

"Did you honestly think that I was only pretending to love you?"

She shook her head no, vehemently, but then she covered her face with her hands. Her voice was muffled. "Only for that split second," she confessed.

He stood up.

"And you couldn't talk to me about it."

She shook her head again.

"And, in fact, you let me think I'd done something horrible. DAMN IT, Buttercup, all sorts of things were running through my head! I thought you'd gotten pregnant and were afraid to tell me. I thought you suspected that **_I_** had gotten involved with Princess! I thought you were maybe suffering from some sort of mental disorder, except I was able to rule that out because Bubbles would have let me know if that were the case." I blushed, even though everyone knew that was true.

He ran a hand through his hair.

"Damn you, Buttercup," he said, his voice sounding slightly strangled. "The worst part was the not knowing. It would have hurt no matter what, your breaking up with me. To not have any idea what I did wrong brought it to a whole new level. I had no way of knowing if it was something I could fix, or if you'd even let me try."

His voice became very cold.

"But to find out that you were willing to cut out my heart and smash it to smithereens, because of what _someone else_ did, and to not think about the fact that it was _me_, not anyone else, but _me_..."

Butch was pissed. He levitated all the way to the ceiling before he spoke again.

"I don't know if I can forgive that."

And he flew out the door. Without opening it first. Seemed the two of them still had quite a few things in common.

Buttercup buried her head in her arms, her forehead on her knees, and her shoulders shook slightly.

I realized that, at some point during Butch's little speech, Brick had moved to Blossom's side. He had one arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and he gave her a reassuring squeeze before releasing her so she could comfort Buttercup. Something that was usually my job.

"Well," Boomer said dryly. "That went well, Doctor Love. What do you have planned for a finale, Bubbles?"

~~~~~

**__**

Author's Notes:

I am so very _very_ sorry for the excruciatingly long delay in posting this latest update. Unfortunately other things have demanded my time. I had the first two pages written about a while ago, and then everything seemed to happen at once! It felt good to sit down and return to the issues plaguing the 'Puffs and the 'Ruffs, though. Of course, the day I have the chapter ready to go, ff.net is "experiencing heavy traffic" so I hope it gets resolved soon so I can get this posted later today (Valentine's Day).

~~~~~

WolfBane2 - The best fic you've read in a while? Thank you! Man, it's reviews like this that make me feel ashamed you had to wait so long...but also ones that forced me to set aside some time to devote to the story!

Hairy Gregory - well, now you know the reasons behind Buttercup's actions, as misguided (to put it mildly) as they were. I have done what Bubbles did...just stared at some writing and registered things like paper texture and ink color and the slant of the text...and finally snapped out of it long enough to read the darn thing! Sorry for the longer than usual delay in the update!

Ud, Shemp, et al - yes, that actually _was_ the most apropos thing uttered involving those four words! A new story? Should I be frightened? ;-)

Sora Yagami - oh, a new reader and I left you hanging with everyone else! Hope you haven't given up on me yet, and thanks for the kind words. The muse thanks you, too!

Nie Starwhistler - I hope this chapter helped explain Buttercup's interesting behavior.

nightglider-star - "oh boy" indeed! I was looking forward to showing why Buttercup reacted as she did, but wasn't sure how I'd lead to Bubbles' in-your-face confrontational style of fixing things. It's worked for her in the past, after all!

Cerberus5550 - well, I guess your first question was answered "soon" in terms of number of chapters, but not "soon" in terms of how long you had to wait! Princess' comment...chalk it up to the fact that she's just a classy chick (cough, cough). And of course, you see how Bubbles' problem solving actions went! Again, sorry you had to wait so long!

Numbuh 9gtG - I'm blushing! Wow. I am really feeling very guilty about going nearly three weeks since chapter 10 was posted, but I thank you for your encouragement!

Tiggabear - as you probably have figured, the first thing I'm going to say is I'M SORRY! I really had planned on getting this chapter out last weekend, but something distracted me shortly after I'd started it, and it was very hard to get back into the mindset of the characters. I humbly bow my head in shame and hope I can avoid making everyone wait quite as long for chapter 12. Thanks for your patience, and again, sorry you needed to exercise it!

Jazz - OK, I confess! I was sitting at the computer this morning and it was your review that gave me the final kick in the pants to force myself into the story again. Once I was there, I had no trouble writing, because I knew what I wanted to write, it was just a matter of finding a block of time when I could immerse myself into the story. I had tried not to go too long between chapters, because the longer I am away from it, the harder it is to get back into it, but fortunately, I knew where I wanted to go with it this chapter.

And my thanks to anyone I may have forgotten. I don't write for the reviews, but I do confess that all of yours have really inspired me to sit down and get back to a story I've enjoyed writing but haven't had the time for.


	12. Blue Skies

I am tremendously, tremendously sorry. I had hoped to wrap things up with this chapter, which is part of the reason that I've been sitting on it so long - I've seen far too many fics that started out strong and petered out near the end, and I have been trying not to be one of those folks, no matter what else RL is throwing at me.

I can't in good conscience make you wait any longer. My deepest apologies...and here's the next chapter.

~~~

****

Chapter 12 - Blue Skies

After Butch's rather dramatic exit last night, things went downhill. Sure, I'd clued Blossom and Brick in on how they felt about each other, but Blossom was in protective sister mode with Buttercup, and Brick was doing whatever it was that he did when he wasn't here, joined to Blossom's hip.

I'd put my foot in my mouth this time. Things were so much easier when we were still in Miss Keene's class and boy problems were simple things like saving Twiggy from Mitch Mitchelson - and I hate to admit it, but I still hold a tiny grudge against him for the way he treated that hamster. The point is, sometimes I see the Big Picture, and I get so excited, I forget that not everyone sees things the same way I do.

I would have been hurt, too, if I'd been Butch. Butch, my dark hero.

I did a lot of soul searching last night. Kept thinking that I might have actually wanted to break them up. I didn't, did I? I had everyone's best interests at heart, right?

I wanted to paint. I craved it. It was almost a physical pain; that's how badly I wanted to get my feelings out on canvas.

Took me until this morning to think of this journal.

And I can't help think of how Boomer keeps a journal, too, that stupid notebook full of who knows what. Maybe I should give up on trying to acquire Boomer's dark secrets by less than honest means.

My face flushed hotly every time I remember the eyeful I got. I wonder how long it will be before Blossom knows what kind of underwear Brick wears. It's not right that I know and she doesn't.

I wondered if Boomer habitually wore only one layer of clothing. Wondered if it was a habit he'd acquired while dating Princess. I wondered if "dating" was even the right word for what had existed between the two of them.

Most of all, though, I wondered if Butch hated me.

What's wrong with me? I _am_ selfish. My sister is heartbroken because I made a mess of things, and all I can think is...does Butch hate ME? Is he mad at ME?

Boomer was right to be so sarcastic last night. He said...

Holy...

Boomer SAID. As in he _spoke_. Boomer, the withdrawn shadow with the journal, actually said something to me last night.

Granted, it was sarcastic, and I admit it hurt a little bit, but he'd opened his mouth and let the words fall out.

I am a horrible friend, and a horrible sister.

Doctor Love. 

Boomer was right to point out my not-too-well-thought out plan.

I wonder if he thinks I'm a complete idiot. I wonder if Brick does, for that matter.

And still, I wonder if Butch hates me.

I can't face Buttercup. I need to, but I can't. If she kicks me out of her room, I think I'd fall apart.

~~~~~

It's only been a couple of days, but it seems like weeks. I've been a complete coward. I've even started going to school earlier in the mornings to avoid seeing the hurt I put on Buttercup's face. It appears I won't have time to dwell on this mess any longer today, because the hot line is beeping in the hallway outside our rooms, and as usual, Blossom has just picked it up.

I can see her from my position on the bed where I'd flopped as soon as I got home. Blossom's frowning - this is not a good sign. It's obviously more than a simple matter of helping the mayor open a jar of pickles. Buttercup once suggested a creative part of his anatomy to use as a jar opener, but I think it's become a sign that all is well in the city, so we still welcome those calls.

She looks alarmed. Looks like I'll have to put aside my bout of self-pity. Townsville first, Bubbles' teen angst second.

I think I'm becoming a bit cynical...

~~~~~

I'm okay. I'm okay. I will keep telling myself that until I believe it. Everyone else believed it, after all, so it must be true.

And I've finally managed to stop crying long enough to drag this damned journal out. The only place I can spill my guts.

I know that Buttercup often gets this 'high' from fighting. Chemical X hasn't ever been a problem with the rush of adrenaline we all get, although Buttercup seems to have gotten the lion's share there.

The short version of the story is...the day was saved, thanks to the 'Ruffs and my sisters. Maybe I helped a little. At least I helped keep a family of bunnies from getting flattened.

Then Butch prevented the same from happening to me.

It's kind of a blur. Typical big, ugly monster - one we haven't fought before, to my recollection. Then another one just like him shows up. Tops of buildings are torn off, a bus and an eighteen wheeler are both thrown into the distance. One was caught by Buttercup, and the other was prevented from crashing into our high school by Brick.

If things were the way they should be, he'd have gotten an earful after all the dangers were taken care of. Both Buttercup and Butch would have complained long and loud about still having to go to school.

Of course they don't mean it, really.

What am I saying? Of course they do. Except that they wouldn't want the truck driver to be hurt. Or anyone that might have been in the school.

It still hurts. Damn it, I can't believe how much it hurts.

I wasn't paying attention to the imminent danger. I was determined to get those rabbits to safety. I wasn't stupid enough to try to shoo them away; I wanted to scoop them up and fly out of the path of the collapsing skyscraper.

But first I had to get the rubble out of the way. I tore at it with both hands, and in my haste, I caused it to disintegrate. I batted away the fragments before they hurt any of the creatures I'd unintentionally placed in danger. I'll bet Blossom would have known that the stone that had imprisoned the bunnies was in danger of falling apart, but then, she might not have thought to look for our four legged friends, either.

So I managed to clear all the obstructions, but before I could gather the rabbits in my arms, they ran. Which was fine with me, because they were running away from the direction of the fight that was still going on.

I had just enough time to realize a large shadow had come over me, and I remember thinking maybe it wouldn't be so bad to think I was Mojo Jojo again, even if I didn't mean it. Funny what you think in times of crisis.

Then a warm body hit me. Hard. And both of us barely got out of the way in time.

I remember looking up at the sky and seeing Butch's worried expression. Once I smiled at him weakly, he scowled and called me stupid. However, I was on Cloud Nine.

Then I heard voices calling us. Blossom, calling from where she was still pummeling the upper part of Monster Number Two, Brick from wherever he was at the time, possibly helping Boomer tackle Monster Number One.

And Buttercup, who, I later found out, had finished off Monster Number Two with an enraged flurry of punches before she practically tackled Butch, just as he'd tackled me. She ran her hands all over his body, then seemed to realize what she was doing.

She turned her attention to me, and I shook off her concerns with a bright smile. Bunnies saved, Butch acting the part of my knight in shining armor, one monster already vanquished...

And Buttercup and Butch were suddenly climbing down each other's throats.

Fortunately for Townsville, by then the second monster had been taken care of by Boomer and Brick - again, I found this out later.

I'm surprised I remember anything, other than the sight of Butch and Buttercup going at it like they never had before. And that's saying something.

I suppose it's true. Fear is an aphrodisiac. I thought it was just some kind of twaddle, but apparently there's something to the need to reaffirm that you're alive and in one piece, or that the person you care about the most is.

I was the one who inadvertently put her foot in her mouth and drove Butch away, even if I wasn't the one who broke them up in the first place. And I was the one who stubbornly clung to the hope that maybe there would be a chance for me with Butch.

I knew it was foolish. I knew it would be wrong, so very wrong, even if Butch reciprocated my feelings. I doubt I could have ever gone through with acting on my feelings for Butch, because Buttercup is my sister. You just don't date your friends' ex-boyfriends, and that goes double when said ex-boyfriend dated your sister.

I did say that I knew they were meant for each other, didn't I?

I've lost track of whether I'm crying because I lost Butch, because I dared to want him in the first place, or because I feel guilty that I am crying in the first place.

Someone's at the door...

~~~~~

The Professor should get a medal, or sainthood, or something.

He asked if he could come in, then he sat on the edge of my bed and rubbed my shoulder.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

When I didn't answer, he followed up with, "Or maybe you just want a hug."

And I did. I cried anew, all over his white lab coat. I probably left a few more offensive things besides tears, because I could feel my nose running all the while, too, no matter how often I sniffled to keep from soiling his jacket further.

The thing is, he didn't need to say anything; he just hugged me, just like he had when I was a little girl, and let me cry.

He has often expressed disappointment that he hasn't been able to make up for the lack of a maternal figure in our family, but he's done a pretty good job, I think. Buttercup would say it's because he's in touch with his feminine side, but I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing.

The only thing he said the entire time I bawled my eyes out was, "Just because your head knows all the right things doesn't mean your heart wants to listen to it. Not even when your heart knows it's the right thing, too."

I guess that pretty much summed it up, didn't it?

It's late at night now, and I should be sleeping, but maybe I'll go up on the roof for a while. I think the fresh air will do me good.

~~~~~

Boomer was hovering over Townsville early the following morning, clutching his journal in one hand and a scrap of something in the other.

He knew she'd be here before long. He'd known her long enough to catalog her habits, and he knew that she'd want some time to collect her thoughts.

She was there within half an hour, and she looked surprised to see him. She looked hesitantly around, as if expecting his brothers to be in the vicinity as well.

"It's just me, Bubbles," he said. "Have a seat." He gestured to the empty air.

She laughed, and crossed her legs as she hovered next to him. "Copping a squat, as instructed," she said. The light in her eyes faded slightly as she recognized the scrap of canvas he held. One hand went to her mouth to cover the 'O' it had formed.

Boomer nodded. "I found it the other day," he said, shaking it open with one hand.

It was approximately a quarter of the oil painting Bubbles had done a while ago. In it, Butch's face was clearly visible among some of the smoke and fire, looking like an unattainable hope in the otherwise dreary art.

She remembered what she'd called it, too. The Demise of Hope.

Boomer vaporized the canvas with his heat vision, and she almost cried out with the loss, feeling it more keenly than she had when Butch and Buttercup got back together.

Then he held out something to her.

Her face flamed as she recognized the journal she'd tried to sneak a peek at.

"It's only fair," he said with a shrug as she looked at him questioningly.

As soon as she took the book from him, he left her alone with it, the blue streak that followed him slowly dissipating.

She ran a hand over the front cover, then slowly opened it.

~~~~~

You'd think that everything was back to normal, just about, right?

If you think that Butch and Buttercup's little PDA was the sign of everything being in the past, you'd be dead wrong.

Butch was still upset that Buttercup lacked faith in him, but, as he confessed to me one afternoon, he is still damned attracted to her. And he admitted once, just once, that he still loved her.

I believe him. If he didn't love her, it would be easy to forgive her for failing to trust him. That hurt him a lot, and I think she will have a bit of a battle to convince him that she does, indeed, trust him with her heart and soul.

It sounds melodramatic, but I think that she really does. Butch does, too, but he's not going to forgive and forget so easily. He'll come around, I'm sure of it. He's even saddled her with a new nickname. This time it's Bucky, and she _really_ hates it. That's a surefire sign that they are close to rebuilding their relationship, at least for those two.

I think perhaps I'm finally on the road to getting over him. At least I know that it's all right for me to feel this way. It would be a problem if I acted on these feelings, but sometimes you just can't help who you love.

Brick and Blossom are simply adorable; honestly they are. They know how they feel about one another, but they are still testing the waters. They hold hands, and sometimes their knees will bump together if they sit across from each other at the table or next to each other on the couch. 

Their casual touches are more and more frequent, and I see the open emotion when they look at each other. It's hard to miss in eyes as big as ours.

I don't think they've kissed yet. They are working their way up to that. Soon, though. All the signs are there, and I can see them clearly. It's different than what Butch and Buttercup have. Where Butch and Buttercup went from rivals to lovers, Blossom and Brick are taking the scenic route from friends to something-more-than-friends.

That leaves me and Boomer.

I would have gone to school the other day red-eyed, if I had bothered to go after I found out that Boomer had found part of my Dark Portfolio.

What's in the journal, you ask? You won't believe me when I tell you.

Poetry.

It started out as angsty-poetry, the sort that could be used as lyrics for a lot of popular bands today. Verses that showed the pain of unrequited love were first. Later on, there was the regret of loving the wrong person, and the pain of substituting lust for love, and then recognizing that physical attraction was sometimes just as blind as love.

Boomer is a damned poet. Not just a poet, but a romantic poet.

Romance isn't always sunshine and rainbows, as much as I've tried to convince myself otherwise.

Romance is also more than just love.

Love is what you feel. Romance is how you show it.

Sometimes what you show isn't exactly pretty.

I've not seen Boomer writing since he gave me the journal. I'm not sure if he felt that if I gave up my "dark vice" he'd give up his as well, or if it was a passing phase he went through, like the black clothes and hair.

Who am I to judge?

Maybe I will take up painting again. But I think I will get a new set of paints this time. Something with a lot more pastels and fewer dark colors.

Something with lots of yellow. And maybe some red and green.

I could always mix green instead of buying it. I already plan on having lots of yellow, after all.

But I think I'd rather have green paint that I didn't create. Something that was green, independent of anything I did.

Something that wasn't created by adding something blue to something like sunshine.

I want to paint again, and use the yellow and the red to depict sunshine, not flames of despair.

I want to use green to show the life around us. The grass, the trees, the flowers.

Perhaps some tulips, and poppies, and daffodils.

That just leaves the sky.

Funny thing about the sky. At night, it's black, but there are stars, little points of light in the darkness.

Sometimes it's gray, and foreboding. The gray can mean a thunderstorm, but it also signals the sunrise.

And when there is a torrential downpour, the gray skies do eventually clear. The rainbow is visible.

I think Blossom will always be the commander and the leader. She's damn good at it.

Buttercup, big ol' marshmallow softy that she is, will likely always be the toughest fighter.

It's time to remember my role in all of this.

I can do that.

~~~~~

A/N: As I mentioned earlier, I really had the idea to finish this story with this chapter, but then...well, things didn't happen as I envisioned. I am very, VERY sorry that you had to wait so long. I think it got worse the more time that went by. I felt it had to be really good to make up for the wait, and then I sat on it longer. It was a vicious cycle, and after all that time, I have almost exactly what I had a month ago.

Part of me wants to end the story here, but I think Bubbles deserves an epilogue. I just don't dare make any promises regarding when that will be.

My deepest thanks to those of you who actually came back to read after more than two months went by. I appreciate all the comments and encouragement to continue. You've really made me more determined to make the time to finish the chapter.

Once again, thank you from the bottom of my heart for your patience, and I hope it was worth the wait.

~~~~~

One last request, beyond the begging of forgiveness - I would deeply appreciate if the review button were not used as a means of launching an attack against another reader. It is rather upsetting to receive such hostile e-mails in the morning. I thank you all for taking the time to review the story in the first place. Your encouragement means a lot to me.


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